


Sparks of Light

by JudeAraya



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Eventual Smut, Family Reconciliation, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: In a world where some people had magic and some didn’t, Dan had always felt at odds. A boy whose magic was broken. The least gifted in his family. Dan’s only ability--being able to see auras--had done nothing but bring him pain, because in each aura Dan read, all he could see were the most depressing human emotions.At twenty three, Dan was settled in London, resigned to a lonely life as a barista in a shared flat with no prospects and little hope, just trying to get by.Until one day, he met a boy on the tube whose aura was so brilliant; so full of color and light, it changed everything.This work iscompleteand will post every Tuesday/Friday
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 237
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThoughtaThought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtaThought/gifts).



> Written for [thoughtathought](https://thoughtathought.tumblr.com/) for Dan's 29th Birthday PhandomGives auction (yeeeees this took a little while, sorry!) 
> 
> Thank you Ben. You believed I could do Magical Realism when I didn't think I could and not only helped make [this dreaming endurance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634755/chapters/62228260/) happen, but gave me a little nudge here. I never imagined I could pull this off, much less how this story would absolutely take over my life and grow the way it did!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: emetophobia (reference to throwing up) and ref to past internalized homophobia

The tube was packed, as always, and Dan was cursing his life choices because he hated the fucking tube while also cursing his inability to beat his own high score at Crossyroad. He was almost there when a shimmering out of the corner of his eye distracted him, allowing a truck to flatten his emo goose. He glanced around, taking in the number of people he was bent on ignoring, and the shadows surrounding them. Midweek during peak commute anyone would be prone to exhaustion and unhappiness. 

Wednesday at five in the evening was one of the few times Dan couldn’t bemoan being visually assaulted by the negativity swirling in everyone’s auras. Everyone was exhausted, impatient, anxious. To be fair, there were some people in the carriage who weren’t _that_ unhappy. 

The thing was that Dan’s ability to read auras—his broken, shitty magic—meant he could only ever see people’s negative emotions. This meant that the only positives he had to hold on to were times he could see visibly lighter auras, those who were more happy than anxious, or angry, or sad. Rarely he’d come across a person whose aura was invisible, someone whose happiness or contentment was completely unmarred by the negative. 

The truth was that wherever he went, no matter what he did, Dan would always only be able to see the dark. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, Dan _felt_ the darkness. His family had never really been able to determine if Dan was absorbing others’ negative emotions, or if the constant reminder of their existence was what affected him; regardless, they did. Dan had many bad days, days when it was hard to leave his room, when getting out of bed felt like a tremendous effort, when the whole world went a little grey from seeing so much darkness, the ugliest and saddest sides of humanity making it impossible for Dan to function.

Intellectually, he _knew_ that people were not all dark, or constantly ensnared in the worst of human feelings. In reality, people’s auras were full of colour, full of positives. But that was a hard knowledge to hold on to when he’d never see evidence of it. And honestly, more than a desire to see those colours was a deep, deep desire to just be able to turn it off. 

Dan could never turn it off.

Which meant he was stuck during peak commute surrounded by a shit ton of negativity. A shimmering of colour and light _would_ catch his attention. Compared to Dan’s preferred aesthetic, he was, objectively, surrounded by an explosion of colourful clothing. This wasn’t what had caught his eye, he was sure of it. He searched for the source of the elusive glimmering he’d caught but couldn't find it. 

He tried to put it out of his mind. His head was pounding, senses overwhelmed by the smells of so many bodies in the carriage, the sound of conversations around him and the clacking of the tube. Dan tried to take slow, shallow breaths; he’d recently taken up yoga and meditation and was trying, despite it all, to utilize some semblance of self-soothing to keep a sudden brewing migraine at bay. Dan didn’t do migraines. He’d only ever had one in his life, but the memory of both the pain and the trigger was enough to make his whole body tense and his stomach roil. He was _not_ about throwing up in public. Maybe that’s what the shimmering was. A migraine halo? Is that what it was called? 

Because surely, surely this wasn’t about to happen again.

* * *

The thing was, Dan hadn’t been born with magic like his family had. A late bloomer, his mother had always said. It had been a reassurance at first. 

“It’ll happen,” she’d say, stroking his hair at night. When she was there, with him, that was. She’d tuck him in with Bear, kiss them both good night and assure Dan that everything would be all right. He’d come into his own eventually. But healing couldn’t make magic appear, and it couldn’t change magic once it did.

As he aged, his lack began to weigh on them all. His mum worried over him, asked his doctors over and over if something might be wrong. His father’s eyes followed him, as if Dan had somehow done something wrong. Dan could never tell if it was _Dan_ he distrusted, or if it was just something he _saw_ in Dan that no one else did. 

Perhaps luckily, once his brother came into their lives, all kinds of attention was diverted; the good, yeah, which sucked, but thankfully, also the bad. Adrian was born like his father, so immediately gifted it was stunning. 

By the time Dan was entering his teens, they’d all almost managed to repress their worry. Perhaps, somehow, Dan had been born without magic. 

He assumed that’s why he always felt out of step, felt off center, from everyone else. Magical or not, Dan never could get it quite right. Other kids targeted him. His family didn’t know where to slot him into their own messy lives. He struggled to make friends, to relate to his peers. 

Until he met Joey. They’d been sat beside each other in maths for an entire year and as the days bled into weeks, Dan finally found himself making a real friend. Joey didn’t care if Dan had magic or not; didn’t mind Dan’s rapid cycles between dramatic intensity, obnoxious humor, or his quiet, withdrawn days. Dan didn’t quite trust their friendship at first: perhaps because he’d never really had a yardstick by which to measure trust and acceptance. But soon enough he and Joey were spending weekend afternoons at Joey’s house playing video games, laughing and making fun of their more obnoxious school mates. 

It was all good. It was wonderful. Until his heart had the audacity to take the turn from friendship into something more intense and definitely unexpected. 

They’d been in maths, Joey trying to keep it together as Dan whispered wise arse comments that had them both laughing into their hands. The light streaming through the windows caught Joey’s eyelashes, made his cheeks glow. Something warm and fluttering tightened in Dan’s stomach. 

Which was when everything went wonky. The light began to shimer and refract, brightening until it hurt; pain roiling through his head and radiating into his body. He’d stumbled toward the bin by the door, barely making it before throwing up. Everything after that was a blur. What lingered was the memory of that pain, the crushing pain in his head; his mother’s soft hands trundling him into the family car and into bed, cool palms on his forehead and cheek. He’d been bedridden for two days, barely able to eat or drink. Migraine, the doctor told them. It would pass. 

And it did. Dan woke on the third day with no pain, hazy memories of the past few days and the most frightening, disorienting realization settling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the migraine. All Dan could think about or focus on was Joey and the fact that, as it turned out, Dan was kind of in love. 

Well, as much in love as a thirteen year old might be. The dramatic kind that felt awful, life altering and all consuming. 

Or maybe that had been the magic speaking.

Dan never knew, none of them did, if the migraine brought his magic on, or if his magic brough on the migraine. Privately, Dan would always wonder if the migraine and the magic had nothing to do with one another and if it really was all a way for the universe to punish him a little more for being different. 

That morning, when his mother had come in to check on him, she’d been shrouded in grey shadows. 

“Mum, wha-” he had reached out, fingers passing through the murk. 

“What is it, love?” she said. 

“You’re all...dark,” he’d tried to explain. He couldn’t quite catch words for what he was seeing. It took him some time to understand, and longer for them all to realize the implications of what it was that he was able to see. 

It turned out that his magic, like the rest of him, was wrong. 

Over time, he’d grown to accept his sexuality; it had been a long journey and in no way an easy one, but by the time Dan was twenty three, alone in the expanse of London, he’d come to terms with it. Unlike his magic, Dan did have control over how he chose to live, how to make his sexuality, his desires, and his heart feel good.

He wasn’t out to his family, but that was all right. Nothing ever worked out for him, romantically, anyway. Having a healthy relationship was nearly impossible when all Dan could see were the negative emotional resonants swirling around the other person. Dan learned the hard way: someone could say _I love you_ even while coated in black. Dan had been in love twice; he’d both broken a heart and had his own heart broken. The last time, a sweet boy Dan had met in Manchester shortly before dropping out of uni had told Dan he loved him for the first time, a cloud of dark grey and flickering black swirling around his head. Dan had never asked what it meant, what he’d done to inspire such a wave of negative emotion. Instead, he’d cut ties and run. Literally. Soon after, he’d dropped out, collected his broken life, and left Manchester.

The scared boy whose awful and weak magic and confusing sexuality were woven into so many of his adolescent memories was someone Dan was determined to leave in the past. Like Wokingham, Manchester was a chapter he’d closed the book on. 

In London he could work as a barista, telling himself that everyone was in a shitty mood before coffee. Which wasn’t exactly true, nor were all customers in search of a caffeine hit, but at least telling himself this helped Dan get by. It helped keep him the dank flat he shared with three strangers he never made an attempt to get to know. Dan was a little lonely, but lonely was better than crushed. When he’d moved, he’d told himself (dramatically and knowing it was a complete delusion anyway) he’d start fresh and find something like peace. He didn’t need love and the shadows surrounding one-night stands he pulled from phone apps didn’t matter, especially when you fucked in the dark. 

Only _now_ Dan in an overstuffed carriage, trying not to sick all over his shoes, blinding pain reaching an awful crescendo in a skull much too small to contain it. 

“Hey, all right?” 

A gentle touch to the elbow alerted Dan to a man crouching before him. Dan caught a glimpse of knees in tight black skinny jeans and battle scarred Converse before he had to close his eyes. 

“‘M fine,” he slurred. 

“No, really you don’t seem—” 

It broke every unspoken rule of the underground really, speaking to a total stranger, even one in distress. Dan might have had words to say about that, were he not sure he was about to die. 

“Let me help you,” the man said. Dan caught a trace of a northern accent in his deep voice. “We’ll get off at the next stop.” 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to get home,” Dan said. 

When he chanced a glance up, his eyes met with dark hair, blue eyes and a blindingly brilliant swirling aura before promptly blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Calvinahobbes, Juli (interficcia) and Fictropes for beta and britpicking. You all have been the best support and team. 
> 
> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/640479158535880704/).


	2. Chapter 2

Dan came back to himself with a horrific jolt, a resounding internal pain that vibrated through him as if he were caught inside the world's largest bell just as it’d been rung. The pain was so sharp and bright he truly thought, for a moment, he might die. As fast as it came it went, and with it him. Dan fell like a marionette whose strings had all been cut at once. Handily, somehow someone was there to catch him. The stranger from the tube was obviously not equipped to hold up 6’3 of dead weight; thankfully he _was_ up to the task of helping to ease Dan to the ground. 

“Where—” Dan took in the floor under him, well worn scarred wood that was familiar. He leaned over and pressed his forehead to the ground, reeling. He was in his flat with no memory of getting there. In the wake of such pain his body felt tender and somehow clean. Weak but different; less weighed down. He began to laugh, just a little; the euphoric laugh of someone who has been through a trauma, or been given bad news—the kind of inappropriate response to a large scale event. He struggled to sit upright, taking deep breaths, afraid to open his eyes, lest the light might trigger another migraine—or a return migraine? Were there rules for when one was one and another came on? 

“You all right?” 

And oh _fuck_ Dan had somehow forgotten that there was a helpful stranger with him. He absolutely did not scream—that's what he’d tell himself anyway—but managed a dignified yelp. 

“Shit, sorry,” helpful guy said. 

Dan should thank him, he knew that. He should get his shit together. 

“Who are—how did we get here?” he asked instead. 

“I’m Phil. You told me where you live? And got us in?” Mystery guy—Phil—said. “D’you not remember?” 

“No,” Dan said. He took a breath. _It’s okay, I’m home, I’m home. I’ll be fine._ “Thank you. I think. Unless you’re about to murder me.” 

“No,” Phil said. He had the gall to sound amused in the midst of Dan’s intense crisis. “You told me you had a migraine...do you have tablets or something for that?” 

“No,” Dan said shortly. Why would he, when it had been a decade since his last one? 

“Should I turn the lights off?” Phil asked. “My mum says lights can trigger migraine sometimes? Or make them, um, worse?” 

Right. His eyes were still closed. Dan didn’t remember getting from the tube home, but he was beginning to remember a little more about what happened prior to it. Fear, a sharp, barbed thing, curled in his belly. “That’s not the problem. It’s kind of a long story. I can’t-okay so, I’m going to open my eyes. And just—”

“Is this to do with your magic?” Phil asked. 

“How do yo-” 

“Well, it’s going crazy,” Phil said bluntly. “I thought it was the migraine, but if it’s not, I have no idea—it’s all over the place.” 

“Well.” Dan swallowed. At least he was with someone who might understand. People without magic tended to shy away from this stuff. “I think it does. I don’t know what you’re seeing—my magic is fucked up, to be honest—but just…” 

“Okay,” Phil said. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll stay here, and you do what you need to do. First, give me your phone and let me know who to call if there’s an emergency. In case you need help from someone who knows you and your magic better?” Dan got the sense Phil wasn’t that authoritative generally, seeing as his brisk tone fell apart toward the end of his sentence. 

Dan fished his phone out of his back pocket; it was becoming difficult not to open his eyes. “Call my mum,” he instructed. “She’s listed under Mum.” He heard Phil’s little huff of laughter and almost smiled in response. Honestly he had no idea what she could do for him, but she was the only one he could think of who had much patience or sympathy for his magical situation. 

“Got it,” Phil said. “D’you need me to hold your hand or ground you? I can put my hand on your knee?”

“What kind of magic do you have?” Dan shook his head. “Never mind. Yeah sure, whatever.” What harm could there be in letting a total stranger touch him, considering he was already in Dan’s home and could tell that Dan’s magic was falling apart? He had no idea what to expect, really, but when Phil’s hands came to rest on Dan’s knees, he felt instantly better. Something cool swept through him. Dan had never felt anything like it. Breathing deep and even, he tried to settle his mind, and opened his eyes. 

He didn’t black out, thankfully, or faint, or vomit. 

Which wasn’t to say his reaction was much better. He’d never felt magic like Phil’s. But feeling it was nothing, _nothing_ compared to _seeing_ Phil for the first time. 

Phil, lovely with unusual green and blue eyes and a jet black quiff that accentuated his lovely pale skin was bathed in an aura of shifting colours, darkness that swirled with purples and blues, scattered with glimmering sparks of light. 

“You—” Dan reached up, as if he could touch it. The colours shifted, brightening in response to his movement; deep inside Dan, something enormous and uncontrollable swelled and ran through him. Phil’s aura was full of colour, and light, _and Dan could see it_. Dan tried his best to control his emotional response, to hold it in. 

“Breathe, it’s all right,” Phil said, voice faintly registering. Dan’s hands cramped, clutching to his chest, lungs aching. Eventually he had no choice, exhaling hard, tears coming fast and unstoppable. He covered his face. 

“ _Fuck_ , I—” he tried, gasping for air. God he must look a mess, sobbing into his hands. Dan wasn’t a pretty crier under most circumstances, and honestly, he’d never in his life cried like this. 

“Dan, can I touch you?” Phil said, quietly, carefully. Dan nodded—at some point Phil must have taken his hands off of Dan’s knees, and _god_ , honestly why was he even still here, sitting with a total stranger who was completely falling apart? “Here, then.” Phil’s hands were cool and so soft when he took Dan’s hands. Dan wiped his tears on the shoulder of his jumper, sniffling hard. “Take a breath and hold it,” Phil instructed, “and when I exhale I want you to inhale, okay?” 

Dan nodded; Phil’s skin against his was enough to calm him. Phil closed his eyes and breathed. Calmer, Dan did as well. When Phil nodded and exhaled, the colours of his aura darkened, but not with pain or anxiety or any of the negative emotions Dan always read in auras. They turned beautiful jewel tones. He inhaled when Phil squeezed his hands. Calm rushed through him. Wonder flooded through his limbs, tingling all the way to his fingers and toes. 

“Your magic,” Phil breathed, voice rich with awe. 

“What?” Dan said, heavy and slow. Dan had seen pictures, before, of nebulas. Knowing these interstellar clouds of gas and dust were scientifically real while also wondering at how something so visually, _terrifyingly_ beautiful could exist always fucked Dan up. The idea that way they could see of galaxies, nebulas, and stars were merely visual remnants, a look into the past at an event that had unfolded millions of years ago, made Dan feel scared and full of wonder; made him feel his body and psyche as both too real and as an imprint that would be nothing but memory one day.

Phil's aura was like that—stunning and terrifying.

“It’s doing something, I can’t-I can’t quite read it,” Phil said. Dan got the sense Phil wasn’t used to not being able to do this. 

“Yeah, it sure as fuck is doing _something,_ ” Dan managed. His voice was gritty, scratched from tears and the effort of holding himself together. Phil squeezed his hands and inhaled; Dan took this as a hint to exhale. Together they smoothed everything out until Dan was so calm, so heavy in his body he thought he might melt into sleep right in the entry of his apartment. 

“You’re going to fall asleep soon, aren’t you?” Phil said. Dan nodded, eyes heavy. “I’ll go—I should go shouldn't I?” 

Dan’s hands spasmed, holding Phil’s tight. He wanted to ask Phil to stay. He wanted to ask Phil what the fuck was going on, even though it was obvious Phil had no idea. What if he let this go, let this stranger fade into the world, and Dan never saw these colours again?

“ _I_ know I’m not a thief or murderer,” Phil said. “But really, _you_ don’t. You shouldn’t let me stay.” 

“I know,” Dan said, voice slurred with exhaustion. “But I-” 

“Here,” Phil picked up Dan’s phone, which was still in his lap. “I’ll give you my number. You can call me when...whenever you’re ready. We can talk. I can help you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Will you call me though? Or text me?” 

Dan thought of his life, promises to return calls, to follow up on promises with potential friends, hook ups, relationships. How often he hid, buried under his blankets, making his own darkness. 

Phil was so beautiful it hurt to look at him, but also so stunning Dan didn’t want to look away. How could he not promise? 

“Yeah.” 

Phil’s smile lit his face, transformed it into something so lovely Dan wanted to trace the shape of his lips, the edges of his ears. 

“C’mon.” Phil stood, helped Dan to his feet, cupped hands under Dan’s elbows as he gained his balance. “Do you need help-”

“No,” Dan said, remembering the state his flat was in. His flatmates were out, thankfully. All together they were a mess, and the flat reflected that. “I’ll manage. Phil,” Dan made sure he looked into Phil’s eyes. “Thank you. You have no idea-” 

“You’re welcome,” Phil said. He cocked his head, curious and kind and lovely. “You should rest. We can talk later, all right? Call someone—your mum?” 

Dan nodded. His vision was going a bit black at the edges and he knew he’d be asleep in minutes regardless of where he was. Phil squeezed his elbows one last time before turning to leave, closing the door behind him gently. Dan gaped at it for a beat before stumbling all the way to his bed, where he fell into an instant, deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging this chapter on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/640749817617924096).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Karen becomes an important character. I didn't invite her, she demanded a place at the table :D

Dan woke desperately parched, urgently needing a piss, with only a mild headache. A glance at his phone told him he’d slept for roughly sixteen hours. He crawled out of bed and to the loo. After washing his hands, he bent over, cupped them and drank directly from the tap. Immediate needs cared for, Dan’s stomach made it’s own unhappiness with the situation known. He hadn’t eaten since noon the day before. _Fuck_. He’d missed his shift as well. Back in his room, another glance at the phone revealed several missed calls and texts. Despite desperate hunger, Dan flopped back onto his bed and called in. Perhaps it was the honest contrition in his voice, or the fact that Dan had always been a reliable worker, but thankfully, _thankfully_ Miranda was understanding as he’d lied and told her he’d been seriously unwell. Which wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was doing better, but yesterday had been horrific and he had no idea what lay in store for him today.

The more he woke, the more aware of his body he became. He felt sore all over; not just in his bones, but in his joints. His skin was sensitized to the point that even the scratch of clothes against it irritated him. 

He dropped his phone on the bed beside him and tried to remember what food he might have in the kitchen, and also if any of his flatmates might be around. He absolutely could not handle an attempt at conversation—general human interaction—right now. He probably had Shreddies left over, and if not, toast would suffice in quelling the roiling hunger while he was waiting for takeaway to be delivered. Usually Dan resisted the urge to get takeaway; London rent on a barista salary was murder. These circumstances demanded some sort of recompense, and takeaway would be the best he could do. 

By the grace of a god he didn’t believe in, Dan managed to avoid his flatmates. Only Tony seemed to be in, but he was at the telly, shouting at some game he was playing. Dan grabbed his Shreddies, a glass of water and locked himself back in his room. He stripped out of his jeans and coffee stained shirt, replaced his pants for fresh ones and crawled into bed. He settled back in bed, propped against several pillows and after several handfuls of cereal, braved another peek at his phone. Some texts from Chris, his morning co-worker, wondering where he was, and two from his mum. Dan fired off an apology to Chris before opening the ones from his mum. 

_Mum: darling what happened?_

Of-fucking-course she would know something happened. His relationship with his family was complex and strained, but he’d never be able to escape the connection she had to his emotions. Honestly, he didn’t want to. In his darkest moments, he’d wondered if this tether was the only thing keeping him in the world. 

_Mum: Daniel if you do not respond I will absolutely show up at your door_

The timestamp on that one was about four hours ago. Shit. 

_Dan: sorry, was asleep, am fine_

He waited for her response with bated breath, hoping desperately that she wasn’t, in fact, on her way to him. 

Twenty minutes later she replied. He’d stuffed himself with half the box of cereal and downed another full glass of water by then and was dozing fitfully, somehow still exhausted. He’d never gotten around to ordering food; he was no longer as hungry but the idea still sounded nice.

 _Mum: too late. I just got off the tube, I’ll be there in five._

Dan tried to leap out of bed, but got tangled in his covers; he jarred his shoulder rather painfully as his body hit the opposite wall before collapsing in a disheveled heap. _Fucking shitballs from hell_. A room the size of a closet didn't leave space for clumsiness. He rubbed his shoulder, pulled on a shirt and the first pair of clean joggers he could find before making up his bed and shoving all of the dirty clothing scattered along the floor and on his desk chair into his wardrobe. He had to work to close it, but the doors did finally click in place after a few attempts. He swept up used cups and cans of Diet Coke and made his way into the kitchen. The counters were a disaster of unwashed dishes, leaving nearly no room for him to deposit his own mess. Fuck, he hated living with so many people. 

The sound of the buzzer jarred him from his panic. He’d never had his family over here unexpectedly. Dan avoided his flatmates with the true skill of an antisocial loner, but one thing they’d all agreed upon was that they’d clean up their fucking mess if any important guests were coming over. There wasn’t much to be done for surprise visits though.

He buzzed his mum in and waited by the door, hands gripped, bones grinding against each other. He didn’t want to admit it, a twenty three year old man who’d distanced himself the best he could from his family, but a small, panicked part of him _wanted_ her with him. Something _had_ happened to him, he had no idea what, and the only person who had ever really tried to help and support him was his mum. 

She knocked lightly—she always did, knowing he’d be waiting by the door—and swept him up into her arms the moment he let her in. Eyes closed, he bent to meet her hug, breathing in her familiar scent. Mortified, he found himself fighting down tears. 

“Daniel,” she said, pulling back and swiping her thumbs under his eyes. He opened them, reassurance on the tip of his tongue when he saw it. 

Her aura. 

It was dark in a way he was familiar with, her anxiety and worry giving it a depth and dimension he was accustomed to. But there was something else. An almost mauve undertone he could barely make out. 

“Mum,” he choked out. “I can see—” 

“What?” she prompted when he stopped. Dan understood, then, the pain in his bones and fragile ache in his skin. He’d felt them once before, known them to be the aftermath of more than a simple migraine. Emotions, fast and hard and too big battered him. Fear and confusion and elation—feelings he had no name for. 

“It’s...I can see—” his vision blurred. 

“What? Dan, you’re scaring me,” she said, hand tight on his arms. 

“Colour,” he said. “I mean, I see the darkness, but also, some red or purple… _What?_ How can I..?”

“You can—oh, love.” He let her pull him in for another hug. They weren’t generally the most affectionate family, but right then, falling apart and out of his depth, Dan needed nothing more. The memory of her hand on his forehead, her soft voice the day he’d gotten his magic shivered through him. 

“Can we sit?” He wiped his nose with his sleeve, which was disgusting but the only option he had. She made a face but followed him up the stairs. “Sorry for the mess; we didn’t—” 

“It’s all right,” she said. The faintest trace of amusement ran under the words. “I raised you. You live with other lads. I expect a mess.” 

“I promise it’s not all mine,” he said, brushing crumbs off the sofa and gesturing for her to sit. “Hold on, I’ll just be a moment.” He made his way to the bathroom where he grabbed some toilet roll to use as tissue. His eyes were swollen and red, his cheeks ugly-flushed. He blew his nose and turned his back on his own reflection. 

“Do you want something to drink?” He only remembered his manners after having sat next to her, but at least he remembered them. 

“I’m all right,” she said. She took his hand. “Is this okay?” 

He nodded. 

“Do you think you can tell me what happened? I was just getting home from work last night when—I don’t know how to describe it, but this feeling,” she said, voice taut with worry. “Dan, it was..the worst and best thing I’ve felt in a long time. I can’t even describe really—” 

“—tell me about it,” Dan said, voice dry and brittle. “Mum, I don’t know what...d’you remember when I got my magic?”

“How could I ever forget that?” Her face twisted. 

“I was on the tube yesterday and...I saw something. Like...a shimmering or, I dunno. The lights did something funny. And then, this pain—it was just like when I got my magic, that migraine? I thought I’d sick all over the carriage and this man came over and asked if I was all right.” 

“On the underground?” His mother didn’t have to live in London to know that this was just not done on the tube. 

“Right?” Dan laughed, a small, still broken sound. “Mum, when I looked at him...I saw colour. I...don’t really remember that much. I guess I blacked out. He got me home.”

“A total stranger, Daniel?” 

“I know,” Dan grimaced. “I don’t remember it though, I didn’t like, come back to myself, until we were already here. But he was kind. I was so scared and I hardly knew what was happening but he said,'' Dan cleared his throat. “He said my magic was doing something odd and I…” 

She waited him out, hand on his steady, serious eyes never straying from his face.

“Mum, when I looked at him, really looked at him, I could see it. His aura.” 

“What do you mean? You’ve always been able to see auras.” He took in her frown lines. 

“No, Mum, I saw the _colours_. All of them. They were—he was so brilliant. He was very kind and...he has some sort of magic I don’t understand, because he breathed with me and calmed me and did _something_ , but he didn’t murder me, which is, you know, ideal.” 

“What was it like?” she asked, softly. Her eyes were bright and shining. He felt tears well in his own in response. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he whispered. “So beautiful it hurt. It almost...didn’t feel real?” 

“And then?”

“And then he put his number in my phone and said I should call him. There was something about the way he calmed me? Or just...it was too much maybe, because I ended up falling asleep after he left for like sixteen hours.” 

“You can really see mine?” she asked, hope shaping each word. 

“Some,” he said. “I don’t know. I can and can’t see it; it’s still dark but there’s colour under it. I feel like I know it though? Like that colour means something and I know exactly what it means, even though it’s very faint. Can a colour be a shadow?” He laughed at himself. The words seemed silly, he felt exposed by both his lack of knowledge but by this new thing, some life altering shift that was happening right in front of her. 

“You said it’s red?” she asked. 

“Almost. Like, red and purple, a mix of them?” 

“Do you want to know what that is?” she said, so quietly he knew it meant a great lot. His chest went tight and eyes hot. He nodded. Her hand on his cheek was exactly as he remembered it, all the years she’d ever comforted him as a child coming back to him. 

“That’s love. That’s _your_ colour Dan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed, please consider a friendly reblog on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/641021634601435136)! All of your comments have been so wonderful, they really mean a lot to me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan shares a big secret he's been keeping.

“What d’you mean?” Dan said, mind spinning.

“I’ve wished for this for so long,” she said to herself before looking back into his eyes. “Adrian told me once, you know, that my aura has a colour for each of you. For the way I love you. This is yours.” 

“Mum,” Dan said, face crumpling. He leaned forward, tipping his face into her shoulder. For so long he had doubted their relationship. Felt excluded, or pushed aside. Felt resentment and resentful and resented. As a teen he’d been so sure that her love might be conditional, that if she _really_ ever knew him, she’d stop loving him. 

There was no mistaking the colour he could see. Even if he couldn’t see much of her aura other than the darkness, there was a settled permanence to that colour. It was anchored in her—he had no real idea how he knew that, but he did, in his _bones_. 

“Mum, I have to tell you something,” he said. 

“There’s more?” 

He pulled back and wiped his face again with shaking hands.

“Yes, but no. Just...something I should have told you a long time ago.” His heart was pounding so hard he felt it in his temples and throat. 

“All right,” she said. “Go on then,” 

“I’m gay.” He bit his lip, breath caught in his throat. 

“Oh,” she said. “How long...have you been keeping that to yourself for long?” 

He nodded. 

“Dan, you...you didn’t have to. You—I hope you’d know it wouldn’t...it doesn’t change anything.” 

“It changes a lot. It changed a lot,” he managed to say. 

“I meant with how I feel about you.” 

Her eyes were so sad then it hurt, a little, to have to say the words. “I thought it might.” 

“Oh, Dan-” 

“It changed how I felt about myself. I...god I hated myself for so long and I thought...if you all knew, you’d see me how I saw myself.” 

“Darling,” she started to reach for him again, but he ducked away. He pulled his knees up to his chest. 

“I couldn’t—the day I realized it was the day I got my magic. I don’t know what happened, if it was the magic or realizing it because it’s all tangled up. The pain and the realization and waking up and suddenly all I could see was everyone else's pain and anger and...I know I can’t actually _feel_ other people’s emotions but seeing them, all the time, wasn’t much different. And I couldn’t...the thought that I’d have to live with you all, and what it might be like if I had to see you disgusted or angry with me…” 

“I’m sorry,” she said. She said it simply, a straightforward fact, an emotion delivered as solid truth. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known. Because I think it would have spared you a lot. But...I can understand, I think. Dan…”

“Yeah?” He rested his chin on his knees. 

“You don’t still feel like that do you? That you hate yourself or—” 

“—no. I...I don’t know. After a while it was just easier to compartmentalize. My life in Wokingham stayed home when I left. And then…” Dan took a deep breath. “I never told you all, I didn’t know how but...school was really awful for me. Manchester...was so fucked up. I can’t...I had to put that in a box too. When I came here it was different. I went to Uni thinking everything would be better, that being away from home might help me see differently. But it didn’t. Everything was so dark and, shit, students are really fucking stressed and anxious _all the fucking time_ , you know?”

Her laugh was soft. She put a hand on his knee. 

“I thought it would kill me, Mum, seeing it all the time. At least when I moved to London I knew what to expect. Nothing would ever change, but I’d still be starting over ready for it in a new place. I guess somewhere along the way feeling ashamed got less and less important. There’s nothing I can do—could do—about it. This part of me...being gay,” he squirmed, saying the words to her, “it’s nothing like my magic. After a while it didn’t hurt. And the magic...always hurt.” 

“We all...we tried so hard to help you. Adrian has spent years trying to find a way to help you with your magic, you know?” 

“What?” Dan sat up straight at that. He and Adrian barely had any relationship these days. Dan assumed that was just mutual disinterest. 

“None of us ever wanted you to suffer, even a little. We all knew you were suffering a lot. To know now...how much more you were suffering...” She bit her lip.

“Don’t cry, Mum. Really. It is what it is. It’s just...my life. I’ll make do. I have.” 

“Something _has_ changed though, now?” 

“I guess so,” he said. He watched her aura, afraid the colour might simply flicker out, that it might have been an illusion or delusion. If anything, however, the longer he stared, the more sure of it he was. 

He watched her for long minutes, and she let him. Her aura changed moment to moment. Sometimes he could be sure of its colour, and others the dark of her worry for him enveloped it until it was as if he were seeing a memory. An ache began to settle behind his eyes. 

“What are you shaking your head at, Daniel?” she asked. 

He shook his head, reverie broken. “Silly thoughts.” 

The front door slammed, jolting them both. From the stairwell came muttered curses Dan knew meant Matty was home. Of all his flatmates, Matty was his least favorite. Dan had never come out to his flatmates, but he’d never taken great pains to hide his hookups from them. Matty never said anything directly, but homophobia radiated from him; in his looks, the tone of comments muttered under his breath. Dan felt it whenever they passed. 

Matty stopped when he made the turning from the stairs into the living room. “Oh! Um. Hello, Mrs. Howell.” 

“Hello,” she said. The short and cold tone of her voice caught Dan by surprise. As did Matty’s aura. His aura had always been especially dark when he knew Dan was around—it visibly darked when Dan would enter a room—but now it was...electric. It wasn’t colourful. Rather it looked like storms rolling in, lightning flickering inside clouds you could see miles off. For the first time, Dan didn’t just sense Matty’s disgust, but a buried anger, muffled danger. Matty never struck Dan as a violent man, just a hateful one. He might not be, really, but even the tiny flickers Dan saw now told him something: in another life, in other circumstances, Matty would be a violent man. 

“Mum, could we go for a walk maybe?” 

“It’s a wet out there,” Matty said. His hair was damp, as were the hems of his jeans. 

“Oh I've brought a raincoat,” Karen said, every word frost laced. Dan wondered what exactly she was feeling from Matty. Her magic was in healing. She was very much attuned to the broken, or hurting; it was why being around Dan had always broken her heart so much. She couldn't heal him. “We’ll do just fine. Fresh air sounds good.” 

She collected her things while Dan dressed for the outdoors. He brought an umbrella just in case, but their rain jackets seemed to suffice—it was wet but not raining—just a good old fashioned British misty wet. There weren’t many people about, but enough for Dan to see the usual greys and blacks of worry and anxiety and anger shrouding passerbys’s heads. When he glanced down, his mother’s eyes were already on him. He shrugged, fighting back a wave of despair. 

“Let’s go to the park, yeah?” she said. “Fewer people.” 

“Maybe grab something warm first? Coffee or tea? My treat,” Dan offered. 

“I can buy my own coffee, Daniel.” 

“I know that,” he said with an eye roll. “I’d still like to.” 

“All right then,” she said. 

There wasn’t much of a queue at the shop; it wasn’t a great coffee place but it was close and they did know Dan. The barista smiled. She knew him by name, which made him feel awful because he never remembered hers. It always felt weird, looking at someone’s chest to read a nametag. But he knew her by her smile; knew that she fancied him a bit. Her aura always lightened around him, turning near translucent. He was flattered and afraid of it by turns. 

Today it lightened as usual when he walked in and came up to the front of the queue. Then, suddenly, it went a hazy purple. Dan tried not to gape, stumbling over his order. His head was beginning to hurt, the aching from earlier more insistent. He forced himself to look down while their drinks were being made. His left shoe had come untied; the laces were now soaked. 

Heat seeped through the paper cup in his hand until it was near burning by the time they reached the park. The benches were wet; he was a bit surprised when his mum pulled him over to one and insisted they sit. 

“I thought you’d do better away from people, but you seem rather tired.” 

“I do feel a bit—” 

“You're getting a headache, aren’t you?” she asked, squeezing his hand; he was surprised by the warmth of her palm, how it made him feel...

“Mum, are you trying—” 

“What?” 

He held her hand close. “Mum, are you trying to make me feel better?” 

“You could feel that?” she asked, eyes going wide.

“Do it again.” 

She sighed, and with it came a warmth. Comfort and safety flooded through him. They were familiar, like her aura. Faint, but something he was sure he’d always known. But...never like this. His eyes burned. 

“All this time, you’ve been trying to heal me? Even when I couldn’t be—” 

“Dan, why wouldn’t I? I’m your mum. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, to feel well. Can you-you can really feel it?” Her eyes welled with tears. 

“Oh, god, don’t cry. If you cry I think I’ll cry and my head really does hurt.” 

“Is it too much, out here?” 

“No, not right now,” he said, taking stock. “The shop was a bit...I was trying not to look at their auras. Because I could see just a little colour in one of them. The girl taking orders” 

“Oh, do you think she fancies you?” she teased.

“Mum,” Dan whined, covering his face. 

“Well, why shouldn't she, or anyone. You are very handsome. And kind.” 

He pulled a face that he meant to convey his dislike for the conversation but she just laughed. 

“Anyway,” he said, with a deliberate emphasis on the word. “Mostly I’m not seeing anything different. People are still dark.” He gestured toward a couple walking back with a small, bedraggled and wet dog. Despite his wet fur, the dog didn’t much seem to mind being out in this weather. “Yours is...stronger.” He looked up at it, then away, a small lance of pain behind his eyes making him wince. 

“Oh, don’t do that then,” she said, taking his hand again. “Close your eyes, all right?” 

He did. He sipped his tea, let the warmth burn from the inside out. Dan felt calmer, the pain behind his eyes fading as she breathed quietly with him. 

“What if...I can see now, but it’ll hurt? Always?” he asked after a while. “It’s always hurt...but not like, physically.” He cleared his throat, tried to rid himself of the thickness behind the words. 

“I don’t know Dan,” she said. “I don’t...I’ve never really heard about magic doing this sort of thing. It must...I am sure we can find some sort of information. Didn’t this Phil say he could help?”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “He said to contact him, that he could help me.” Dan opened his eyes again, watching drops of water drip from wet trees. His face was damp. “Maybe he was winding me up?” 

“But he made you feel better? He helped you feel better?” she pressed. 

“I don’t know him from Adam, Mum. What am I supposed to do, have him over for tea?” 

“Well. Yeah. Though you probably don’t want to have him over to your place. Not with _that_ boy there.” The vitriol in her tone took him off-guard. He forced himself not to question her; exhaustion was settling in his bones and he didn’t want to stray from their topic. 

“I don’t know what—” 

“I’ll get a hotel,” she interrupted. 

“ _Mum,_ no.” 

“No, Daniel. I’m not leaving with you in this state. Maybe he can help, this Phil. He can come to a hotel, can’t he? It’ll be neutral ground. We can meet him, get a sense of him without other people around. And I’ll be the clear headed one, since we don’t know how you’ll be, yeah?” 

It made sense, and he knew it. Still. “The expense, Mum,” he protested again. 

“Dan, I’m not struggling here. I can afford a hotel. Even if I were, I’d stay. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to feel all right, to be okay. Maybe...maybe this is your chance? We’ve got to at least try.” 

Dan took his phone out of his pocket. His shoes were well soaked now, even his toes were wet, and getting cold. No sense in dithering in the rain. His mum was a stubborn woman, tougher than most people thought she was. 

“You’ll call him then?” she asked. He risked a glance up, saw how the worry in her face was easing. That alone was enough motivation for him to get over himself. 

“I’ll text him.” He did then, to prove he was going to, since he knew she’d nag him to death about it. 

_Dan: Hi. This is Dan. The weirdo from the tube?_

His mother snorted out a laugh and nudged his knee with her own. 

“C’mon,” Dan said. He pulled her up to stand, but kept her hand in his. He closed his eyes. “Mum, could—” a deep comfort welled through him, came in waves that were stronger than he’d felt before. His phone pinged, loudly, in his hand. Dan cleared his throat and pulled away. 

_Phil: Yes! This is Phil! The other weirdo on the tube!_

“Rather excited, isn’t he?” she said. Dan’s laugh was wet and loud. 

“Let’s find you a hotel,” he said. “And a taxi.” Rain was falling in earnest by then, and they were both soaked. “I’ll text him in the car, all right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/641393989069733888).


	5. Chapter 5

It ended up being a whole _thing_. It wasn’t as if she’d brought any clothes with her, and while they were both rather stubborn, she wasn’t debilitated by a headache. The only really positive thing about the headache was that Dan didn’t have to endure her smug gloating—he was his mother’s son in many ways—when he finally acquiesced. They’d gotten her a hotel room, and Phil had been, thankfully, available to meet the next morning. His mother had tucked him into her bed, instructed him to sleep after doing what she could to ease his pain, and gone off to shop. She’s seemed rather happy about it, honestly. 

“And look at this!” Hours later, Dan was still in her room, headache and a room service burger mostly gone, nodding with what he hoped looked like sincere excitement as she showed off her purchases. She’d been rather chuffed, in the end, to get a day to herself, treating herself to some London shopping. 

“You really splashed out, Mum,” Dan said, mouth and belly full. 

“Manners,” she said, but with a smile. He wiped his mouth and put his napkin over his plate. If he ate any more, and he would, he’d end up overfull and miserable. 

The sun was fully set by then and the room was as well. She’d insisted on keeping the overhead lights off, in case his headache came back. The reading lights and bedside table light were a warm yellow. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” She sat on the little chair next to the love seat and picked at her own leftover food. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s just getting home. I’ll be careful not to really look at anyone—it’s not that hard, I do it all the time,” Dan said. 

She laughed because he did, both of them ignoring the subtext.

“And I’ll be here in the morning. If I’m feeling poorly—maybe could you, um...” he stopped. He wasn’t used to asking for help from anyone, much less his family. Maybe it should be the opposite—easier to ask your family for help than strangers—but Dan’s relationship with help and family was coloured by many things. Vulnerability felt so much more frightening with someone who knew you. 

“Of course, love. I always want to help you.” Karen stood, brushing a kiss to his forehead. They’d never been ones for pet names, or affection, as he’d gotten older. A bit because that was just her personality, but also, he had to admit, because he’d spent years resentful and rebuffing touch he knew would not help him as it helped others.

* * *

Dan made it home after an arduous journey on the underground. He knew not to look, knew it would just bring on another headache. But a part of him so badly _wanted_ to look, to test what was—if anything—changing. He’d mostly done all right. The few times he’d looked, a buzzing irritation vibrated up his bones and into his mind; he could _feel_ his magic trying to work, to slot things where they ought to be, gears grinding fruitlessly. The fact that he was capable of feeling at all left him with a glimmer of hope. Surely he couldn’t live the rest of his life in _this_ misery—not able to see much and in pain when he tried. 

Once home he ignored his flatmates in favor of his bed. He’d slept for hours while his mum had been out, but exhaustion still weighed heavy in his muscles. He went through the most basic motions: cursory shower, brushing his teeth, setting an alarm for early in the morning before collapsing into bed. He couldn’t help but scroll through the short conversation he’d had with Phil before closing his eyes. Phil had agreed to meet him, had again expressed interest in helping him. He’d certainly seemed kind enough the few moments he’d stayed with Dan here. Dan wasn’t one for hope or really much faith in other humans, but despite himself, he had a good feeling about Phil.

* * *

Dan took a taxi, upon his mother’s insistence, to her hotel the next day. He didn’t know how it was that he was beginning to cave to her so easily now, but really, he didn’t want to see more people than necessary. He had woken up grumpy at the hour but otherwise refreshed. Well enough to have perspective on how shitty he’d felt by the end of the night last night. He had no idea what was in store for him today, with Phil and his mum. 

Her hair was still damp when she answered the door, feet bare, face plain of makeup. She looked homey. Homesickness caught him off guard. 

“Oh,” she said, returning the hug he caught her up in. He was as surprised as she was by it. Karen looked him over when he pulled away. “Did you eat breakfast?” 

“Yeah, I had some cereal at home.” 

“I have some fruit left over,” she said, walking toward the little sitting area. “You didn’t have any did you?”

“Mum,” Dan complained. “I’m a grown-”

“Yes, yes, a grown man who hasn’t eaten any fruit today. Sit and eat.” 

So he did. He was halfway through a banana when a sneaking suspicion crept up on him. 

“Do you have any other kinds of magic?” 

“Like what?” She continued combing her hair in the mirror.

“Like being able to make people do things.” 

She laughed, a real delighted sound. “No, Dan. If I had any authority to sway other humans, I think your room would have been much cleaner and getting you to do chores as a teenager wouldn’t have been such a trial.” 

“I dunno, maybe I wasn’t susceptible back then,” Dan said petulantly. 

“I promise, I have no powers over you. You’re just tired. And in need of fruit—” 

They both startled at the sound of a knock. 

“Oh,” Dan said, fingers going numb with nerves. 

“He’s early,” Karen said, quiet as if she were nervous too. They shared a look. Dan took a deep breath and squared his shoulders and told his nerves to shut the fuck up. 

“Hello.” Phil stepped through the door, and took his mum’s offered hand. “I’m Phil.” 

Really, Dan ought to do the introducing but he was struggling to _breathe_ , so like, whatever. His heart was beating so fast Dan genuinely wondered if he was having a heart attack. He sucked in a breath, intending to say something, call his mum’s name, maybe, _something_. 

And then Phil looked at him.

* * *

Dan remembered the way the pain had gone, when Phil had touched him the last time they met. Remembered the way it had crested and then left so suddenly. It hadn’t seemed the most important detail, what with the migraine and the newfound ability to see auras and the whole, breathing-and-healing thing Phil had done. 

Perhaps, the whole time, it had been one of the more important things. 

Because when Phil looked at him, everything went still. Even the roaring in his ears stopped, sound cut off cleanly and suddenly.

* * *

“Well,” Dan’s mum said, voice jolting him out of his trance with a jerk. Dan closed his eyes and sat with a thump. 

“All right?” she and Phil said at once, then laughed a bit. Karen put her hand on Dan’s cheek, a testing touch, but he wasn’t in pain. He was reeling, but not in pain. He took her hand off of his face. 

“Phil, why don’t you-maybe—would you like...” 

“Mum,” Dan said, a touch amused by how lost she seemed to be as well. 

“Yes, sorry. This is just, well—”

“Unexpected?” Dan said. 

“Unusual?” Phil said. 

Dan smiled and chanced a look at Phil. Whereas before he'd been caught up by Phil’s eyes, now he couldn’t help but stare at his aura. It was quite the testament to Phil’s eyes really, that they would be what attracted Dan’s attention first, what with the beautifully galaxy of colours shifting and swirling around him. 

“Um,” his mother piped up. Dan realized that Phil had been staring at his aura again, too. “As interesting as it’s been to watch you stare at each other’s auras, I do want to be sure this isn’t going to hurt Dan, and to maybe try to get to know you a bit, Phil.” 

“Oh, God,” Phil said, laugh both odd and delightful. “How long were we doing that for?” 

“Oh, only a few very awkward minutes,” Karen said, a privately happy sort of smile on her face. Dan wondered what it was about. She didn’t get that look on her face often. 

“I’m fine, Mum,” Dan said. “Really I—Phil, I realize this is probably a lot since you don’t have any idea who I am or my like, stupid story, but honestly, Mum, I feel...good? Better?” 

Her hand was on his arm. “Yes, I can tell,” she said drily. He wondered what exactly she was feeling from him. He hadn’t a name for it so he doubted she did.

“Sorry,” Phil also apologized. “I just thought, well maybe I’d imagined it, what his aura was doing. I do tend to have...an imagination,” he said it as if it were a bad thing. Dan got the sense that people might not always have been kind about it. “But it’s still doing it,” Phil said.

“Doing what, can you describe it?” Karen asked. 

“You can’t see it?” Phil’s eyes went a bit wider. 

“No, not my gift. My husband and younger son can, though. But, as you can see, they aren’t here. When...whatever it was, happened to Dan, I felt it. Knew I had to come.” 

“Mum, you don’t have-” Dan said, then rolled his eyes when she stepped on his foot, a not so subtle nudge to behave himself. 

“Oh, well,” Phil rolled right on past their exchange, “I should probably say it’s not doing exactly what it was but it’s still sort of...freaking out?” 

“My magic is freaking out?” Dan tried, he really did, to keep the skepticism from his voice. 

“I know it sounds weird, trust me. But if you could see what your aura is doing—what it _did_ —” 

“Yes, actually. Would you mind telling us?” his mother interrupted. “It’s only, Adrian wanted me to ask—that’s his brother, Adrian, he knows quite a bit about auras but even he has no idea what could be happening.” 

“I noticed it on the tube. His aura I mean.” Phil stopped, then turned to Dan. He got the sense that both he and Dan were making a concerted effort to make eye contact and not look at each other’s auras. “Your aura. It was really dark? Not in a bad way,” Phil rushed to clarify, “not like you’re a bad person or anything. More like, someone who's tired and...depressed…?” Phil stopped. “I’m not saying you are, it’s not my business, it’s just that I’ve not quite seen an aura like it, that’s the only way I know to kind of describe it.” 

“Go on, then,” Dan encouraged kindly. He didn’t much want to linger on the depressed part. Coming out to his mum was enough, he wasn’t quite ready to talk about all of his other feelings just then. 

“Well, it was the sparkles that really got my attention,” Phil started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/641654996216184832).
> 
> As always, love an thanks to Cal, Juli and Fictropes.


	6. Chapter 6

“The sparkles?” Dan shifted, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He bit the cuticle of his thumb.

“Yeah, it was like, little sparkles all over his aura, and I dunno...you must have caught sight of my aura because you looked around and then wow, it went—” Phil made an incomprehensible gesture with his hands. Dan stared at him, but Phil didn’t carry on. 

“And then?” his mum prompted with the patience of a saint. 

“I knew something was really wrong—you don’t have to see an aura to know when someone is as ill as he was, not when you can feel it,” Phil said. Dan almost interrupted but his mum pressed her fingers down on his knee to keep him quiet. “When I came over to you—when I asked if you were all right? You looked up at me and...it was like lights out. In your aura I mean. Your magic. Everything powered down.” Phil made a noise Dan could only assume was an impersonation of something powering down and, not, in fact, a goose being squashed to death. He resisted the urge to laugh. 

“I didn’t really know what to do, I couldn’t _leave_ you like that, you know?” 

Dan’s mum smiled—hell Dan smiled. Phil just seemed so kind. 

“I was trying to figure out who to call or what to when he—you—grabbed my hand.” 

“I did?” Dan had to consciously force his mouth shut. He remembered literally _none_ of this. 

“Yeah,” Phil said. “And then—” he stopped, biting his lip. For the first time he seemed genuinely distressed. “It was really kind of awful then, something happened and it was—I didn’t feel what you felt really, but I _knew_ it? It was a bit like experiencing the worst pain someone else has ever been in, but secondhand. I’m...I’m really sorry you felt that.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dan said, automatically. 

“Still, no one should feel things like that,” Phil responded. 

“How long…” Karen started. Dan looked over, surprised to see her eyes bright and pained. 

“Really, it was fast, like..it came through him and then his magic—I could see it in his aura it sort of—” Phil motioned with his hands again. “Exploded outward. But not like, a violent explosion. Like a flood. Floodsplosion.” 

Despite himself, Dan found himself laughing. “A what?” 

Phil rolled his eyes. It was, frankly, adorable. “I dunno! It did a thing—” he made more hand gestures, “then went all erratic.” 

“You seemed so calm though,” Dan said. 

Phil smiled. “Well you weren’t. And I do know what to do with that.” 

“Are you a healer then?” Karen asked. “You don’t feel like one.” 

“No, my magic is...weird. It’s um...just...what people need. My Mum said once they’d never heard of magic like mine.” 

“Oh?” Even Dan had to hop in now. Asking questions about someone's magic when you didn’t know them wasn't considered polite. But Dan couldn’t bring himself to worry about what the done thing was, not in this position. Plus, Phil had agreed to come and talk to them and to help them. 

Phil’s cheeks went pink. He looked down. The colours of his aura shifted. Adrian had described auras to him, like how he saw them, years ago. Some were colourful, some nuanced shades. But he’d never described one that was a supernova of colour before. 

“My magic helps people feel good. One of the things it can do, if needed, like you did, is calm them? It’s ‘helping magic’, is the closest thing I can describe it as.” Phil explained. “I can’t use it on just anyone, I don’t think. I have to either ‘know them’ or have some kind of physical connection to ground myself in. At least I think so. There’s—it’s complicated.” 

“Why the air quotes?” Dan asked. Phil’s shoulders came up around his ears. 

“It’s a little hard to explain. My Mum’s always said my magic is wayward, like me. I reckon that’s a nice way of saying odd. Although, people do tell me that all the time too.” Phil’s lips quirked; he didn’t seem put off by the words; rather more like he was remembering teasing banter. “The thing about magic is that sometimes it can be hard to distinguish our magic from our selves, and well. I am weird. And wayward.” Phil’s laugh was sweet and delightful. 

“You make people without magic feel good too, I bet,” Dan said, softly, then froze. He didn’t look at his mum. It wasn’t a line, not really, but it felt like one. Dan’s insides were a riotous mess, filled with questions and yearning. He wanted to take Phil’s hand, to see what would wash up through his fingers at that touch. Magic, connection, desire, more? All? Phil was beautiful; unconventionally beautiful, easily beautiful. And he was right, too, about how it was hard to distinguish magic from self. Dan never could quite distinguish his own anxiety and depression from what he saw every day in the world.

Dan wanted to put his hands on Phil. He just didn’t know why, or how much of that desire would be the magic or the man. 

Not that he was putting his hand on Phil or anything. Dan shook his head.

“So you can’t heal, but you can help?” Karen asked. 

“Yeah, like, when I focus it...it knows. What the other person needs. I can control it in my way, but my magic does whatever is needed of it in it’s own way. It can be a bit draining, sometimes though.” 

“I have honestly never heard of anything like this,” Dan said. His mum nodded. “So what do I need then?” 

Phil’s smile was lopsided. His lips were plump, with a lovely cupids bow Dan wanted to—

_Focus._

“Well, when I was with you the other day, really it seemed like you needed grounding. And calming. Part of that might just have been panic?” 

“I wish I could tell you, mate. I have no idea. The thing I remember most is the pain. And getting to see your aura?” 

“Oh?” Phil’s eyes, focused directly on Dan, were quite a lot to take. 

Dan looked at his mum. He hated explaining his broken magic almost as much as he hated the ways his family tried to talk about it—the barely disguised pity, soft words to cushion the fact that there was something rather wrong with him. 

She quirked an eyebrow; she’d explain if Dan wanted her to. 

Dan squared his shoulders. Phil had offered to help, and if he was helping anyone it was Dan. He should be the one to explain. 

“My magic is broken,” he said. 

“Daniel,” his mother protested. 

“Mum, let’s be honest.” 

“Can magic be broken?” Phil said, brows drawn together. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“I…” Phil picked at a frayed thread in his ripped jeans. “Maybe because my magic is unusual and does it’s own thing...I’ve always just thought that magic works the way it does for a reason. Broken feels like...something really painful to believe.” 

“It was hard. It is hard,” Dan said bluntly. Phil’s eyes skittered to the right, away from them. Dan took a breath. “Sorry if that came off rude. It’s...a sore spot.” 

“You don’t have to tell—” 

“Well, I kind of do, right? I mean. You don’t have to help me. But if you’re going to, you should know.” Dan bit his lip. Phil’s eyes softened. 

“We barely know each other, yeah? I promise I _do_ want to help you, and I will. You don’t have to tell me everything right now. We can get to know each other—I’d...I’d like that, yeah?” 

Warmth radiated from Dan’s belly through his limbs. 

“I didn’t have magic until I was a teenager,” Dan started. “We all thought there was something wrong with me, and then that maybe I just didn’t have it?” He spared details about what it was like, when Adrian came along. “But then, when I was thirteen, something happened and...I don’t know. I had that same migraine and when I woke up a few days later…” 

Both his mum and Phil leaned forward. Dan poked his mother’s knee. “Well you were there, yeah?” 

“Well yes, but I didn’t know as much. And you weren’t keen to talk about it. I’m interested to know your perspective as an adult.” 

Abashed, he bit his cheek. He’d have to remember, later, to apologize to her for shutting her out. Or just...to have a serious talk about what he had been going through—all of it.

“Well, in the end the magic I ended up with was being able to read auras. Only...” Dan stopped, ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead like he did when he was thinking hard. “I can-could...can? Only see the bad things. Sadness. Anxiety. Anger. All of the dark shadows in an aura—they’re all grey and black to me.” 

“Oh,” Phil said. His face was troubled. Eyes soft with an empathy Dan wasn’t emotionally prepared for. Phil’s presence was almost too much. 

“When I saw you...that’s the first time I’ve ever seen colour in an aura. I don’t know...what triggered it this time. But it...I wish I could explain, how it feels like...something broke again? Like I’m getting new magic or abilities but it _hurts_ and I’m not sure …” 

“Dan.” Phil’s voice was so soft Dan almost didn’t catch it over the ratcheting up of his breathing and heartbeat. “Would you hold my hand?” 

Little spots were dancing at the edges of Dan’s vision. He nodded. Phil held his hands out. Dan’s response wasn’t instant; just that touch wasn’t enough to quell the anxiety attack that was threatening. 

“Breathe, Dan,” Phil said, still quiet, eyes on Dan’s. His fingers were shaking under Dan’s palms. Phil’s aura...shimmered. Did something odd, something familiar but not. Knowing but not knowing niggled at the back of Dan’s mind; a knowledge he might have but had no access to, nor any memory of learning. 

Still, between Phil’s soft—very soft—hands, his steady eyes and his lovely aura gone the colours of an aurora borealis, Dan did eventually calm. 

“Better, love?” his mum said. Dan nodded. He didn’t want to look away from Phil, nor break their connection, but he could feel the tremor in Phil’s hands getting worse. 

“I’m sorry,” he said when he let go of Phil’s hands. “That tired you, didn’t it?”

Phil raised one shoulder in an all-lopsided shrug. “A little. I can tell it helped you but...I still don’t understand. Your aura and magic….they’re responding but not in a way I’ve seen before. And inconsistently.” 

“Sounds like me. Unable to commit to something and inconsistent about everything.” 

“Dan,” his mother protested, laughing a bit. It was a joke, after all. Maybe a little true and close to home, but a joke. Phil smiled wider, a little less composed. 

“How have you felt, Dan, since the tube thing?” 

“Um, shite. Like utter crap, to be honest. Not as bad as when you met me, but still not good.” 

“And you still can’t see—” 

“Yes. No,” Dan said. “See? Commitment issues.” Dan looked over at his mum for the first time in what felt ages—with Phil in the room, it was hard to look elsewhere. Her face...he’d never seen her look like that before. Soft, happy. Maybe? Intrigued? Her aura though, the lovely deep maroon was so much clearer, less muddled by dark. “I can see yours right now, Mum,” Dan said. “Like, really clearly.” 

“Do you think it’s because—”

“—definitely.” Dan turned back to Phil. “I’ve been able to see a little more. Mum’s mostly. A couple of other people, for a moment. Only, when it’s out there—” Dan waved toward the windows “It’s awful. The pain comes back.” 

“But you said you can see mine more clearly?” Karen said. Dan nodded. “Maybe then, Phil _can_ help you. Something in you is responding to something Phil has.” 

Dan resisted, barely, the easy joke laid like a present before him. This was his mum after all, and he’d only been out to her for about twenty four hours. Dan breathed through a sudden dizzy spell. 

“I do think I can help,” Phil said, softly. “I’d like to help. If you want?” 

Dan took a breath and tried to clear a very cluttered mind. A stubborn part of him resisted. A complicated, ugly part of him that questioned his worth, his value. A slightly twisted part of himself that didn’t feel deserving, that maybe even wanted to keep punishing himself. What did it mean to deserve something, anyway? Was there any such thing for a person? Deserving good, or bad, punishment or praise? Gifts or accolades or even wellness? Was his life—the forward movement of his life, the crossroads right in front of him, about deserving or about making? Dan choosing, for himself, what kind of life he wanted? 

There were no guarantees that this would work, and that was hard. How would it feel to try, and fail? He’d failed so much already in life. Yet at every turn he’d discovered disappointment never got easier.

So really, what did he have to lose? 

“Yeah,” he said and made himself look Phil directly in the eyes. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/642017820729884672).
> 
> As always, love an thanks to Cal, Juli and Fictropes.


	7. Chapter 7

“Mum, I promise,” Dan said for the fifteenth time in a 20 minute phone call. “I’m getting dressed as soon as I get off the phone, and I’ll definitely be meeting Phil.” 

“No last minute cancelling,” she said. Even at his age he wasn’t immune to her stern Mum-voice, which mostly meant he was irritated, wanted to rebel just a little, but knew it was for the best he do as she said. 

“Mum, for the last time, _he_ cancelled on _me_.” 

“Over a bird?” 

“I know it sounds weird,” Dan said with complete honesty. It was weird. “But he sent me photos. He really, genuinely, saved a random pigeon. It’s kinda cu-” he caught himself. 

“Dan,” she said. “You can say it’s cute.” 

Dan cleared his throat and glared at the selection of jumpers he had laid out on his bed. He’d been staring at them the whole time he’d been on the phone with her, trying to decide what to wear. 

It was a new thing, them talking more. Making an effort to connect. But it was also still very new, being out. He’d spent so long in the closet, with his family, the cognitive dissonance was much too strong to overcome easily. 

“You promise you haven’t said anything to Dad? Or Adrian?” Dan asked. “About me being gay, I mean. Not the magic.” He knew she was keeping Adrian updated on that front—Adrian had texted him a couple of times in the past week. Dan was never sure how to reply. Both because he still didn’t feel like he had clear answers _and_ because they’d never had that sort of close relationship. 

“I told you I wouldn’t, and I won’t. I know you have a lot on your plate,” she said. “Just take care of what you need to do, one thing at a time, and I’ll be supporting you regardless.” 

“ _Mum,_ ” Dan said, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Okay, I know, I know, you’re a grown man, blah blah,” she said. He was endlessly glad to have her on his side, but their family had never mastered that open, emotional communication thing. 

Cognitive dissonance. It was a bitch, but it was real. 

“All right, but I really have to go now Mum, or I’ll be the one cancelling,” Dan said. 

“You’ll text me? After?” 

“Yes,” he promised, _again_. 

“All right. Also, wear something with colour. How many black jumpers are you trying to choose between?”

“ _Mu-um,_!” Dan covered his face with his hand. “I am actually hanging up on you now.”

* * *

“Hi, uh, hello, so, come on in,” Phil said, all in one breath. While standing blocking the door to his flat. 

Nice to know Dan wasn’t the only one freaking out here. 

“I’d...love to?” Dan gestured. 

“Oh!” Phil’s face did an adorable half eye-rolling, part smile, a little laugh kind of thing. He stepped aside. “My flatmate is out—she went up to visit her family, so we’ll be alone.” 

“Okay,” Dan said. He noted the collection of shoes inside the door and Phil’s socked feet so he toed his own trainers off. “I appreciate it.”

“How’s it been going? Avoiding roommates?” 

“Yeah,” Dan said. He did _not_ stare at Phil’s bum as they made their way up a steep set of stairs. Well, he tried hard not to, which had to count for something. Phil was wearing a white hoodie that made his black hair and blue eyes startlingly bright. Dan sighed; the universe really had it out for him, putting a very fit man in his path that he probably, definitely should not be mentally undressing. They had serious work to do. 

He and Phil had been texting a bit, despite not being able to meet, so Phil knew Dan had been struggling a lot with being around others. Dan forced himself to focus. “Work was really the worst,” he continued. “I mean, my manager was kind about me taking a leave, but my bank account really isn’t feeling as generous.” 

“Well,” Phil paused by a set of proper, grown-up, grey sofas that were in good condition and seemed pretty new. Dan thought of the brown monstrosity held together by duct-tape and stubbornness in his own flat. “Hopefully we can help get you sorted so you can at least work. Not,” he rushed on, “that that’s the end of things or like, I’ll be booting you. I want to help you as much as possible. Just, you know. First things come to those who work hard.” 

Dan tilted his head. “What?”

“The saying?” 

“That’s...not at all a saying,” Dan said, suppressing a laugh. 

“No! It totally is. I think. Maybe.” 

God, Phil was cute. Dan couldn’t hold back, only a little embarrassed by his uncontrollable giggles. Good thing he wasn’t going for an image or anything. Maybe if Dan hadn’t sworn off dating; maybe if he wasn’t here for a much more important purpose; maybe if he wasn’t _Dan_ , he would. 

Phil was laughing too, though, which was good. He had a good laugh, both higher and louder than his speaking voice. Rich and unrestrained. Dan sat, and when Phil settled on the same sofa opposite of him, Dan curled one knee up close to his chest. Phil was watching Dan’s aura closely. Dan licked his lips, every ounce of scrutiny weighting on his nerves. 

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, would you like something to drink?” Phil sprang up, only barely missing smashing his shin against the sharp cornered table in front of the sofa. “I have, um, water, Ribena, oat milk—” 

“Phil, that’s all right you don’t have—”

“—no really, it’s no issue. I’m going to grab myself some water anyway.” 

“Water would be good then,” Dan said. This time when Phil walked away, Dan let his eyes wander up toward his aura. It was pastel Easter colours today. He wanted to always be looking at it, if only to see how many different facets it had; the small headache that settled behind his eyes—just a tiny thing, barely noticeable—reminded Dan why he couldn't. He’d been doing a great job avoiding catching sight of auras the last few days. Even more than he had before. He’d always hated it, the way constantly seeing darkness made him so depressed and upset. Now, when he did happen to forget himself, or when it was unavoidable, Dan was greeted with two things; flickers of colour and headaches. 

When Phil handed him an overfull glass of water, Dan took it with both hands, sipping until it was less in the _imminent spill danger_ zone. 

“Thanks,” he said when he was done. Phil didn’t seem to have coasters, so he followed suit when Phil set his glass carelessly on the table. Well, not carelessly. But he did put his glass down. Dan closed his eyes and _just_ barely caught himself before he could pinch his nose. He didn’t want Phil to think he was annoyed with him, rather than the constant nervous prattle in his own brain. 

“So I guess before we start we should talk more about how things have been going. Specifically.” Phil said. 

Dan curled back in on himself. “I’ve always been good at—well I don’t think I can really say that…” Dan chewed on his lip, “I’ve tried hard, not to look at them, too much. Auras. It’s not good for me, seeing everyone’s unhappiness all the time. There’s lots of times you can’t avoid it just because you know...when you’re in the world you’re seeing people. But I did my best.” 

“That must have been really hard,” Phil said. 

Dan lifted a shoulder and looked away. Phil’s shelves were packed with video games, many of which Dan loved. “The whole thing was. Everything about magic always has been. I...I’ve learned to get by. Which,” Dan shook off his mood with another breath, “wasn’t really so much my point. I just meant, avoiding looking directly at people’s auras hasn’t been too hard. When I do...I don’t know. If it’s a stranger, sometimes I see a tiny flicker. People who know me—my roommates, or the other day, a barista at a coffee place by my flat who I think fancies me—then I see more. A haze?” 

“So people who have an emotional connection with you?” Phil suggested. 

“Maybe?” Dan kept sticking his finger under the strings of the frayed skinnies was wearing. “I don’t really have a connection with them other than they know me. Or well, not coffee-girl. I’ve just...been trying to avoid the way she looks at me.” Dan’s soft laugh elicited a smiled response from Phil. 

“Is she cute at least?” Phil asked. 

Dan’s smile faded. “I uh...I don’t go for—I’m gay,” Dan said all in a stuttered rush. “And I don’t date.” His heart was pounding; his cheeks hot-flushed. He didn’t think Phil would like, throw him out or anything. But it was personal and Dan was awkward. 

“Oh, I’m gay too!” Phil said, happily, as if there were a gay club and Phil would get to invite him into the tree house and give him the secret code to whisper at the door. Dan could feel his face doing another _thing_. He wasn’t used to feeling fond, nor delighted, especially by strangers. “I mean, I do try to date, but that’s hard.” 

“Because of your magic?” 

“Oh, is that why you don’t date?” Phil asked. 

“Well, why else—” 

“Well, you could be ace, or aro, I dunno—” 

“Soz, you’re right I didn’t think of that. No I just meant, it’s hard, with my magic. Imagine trying to trust someone feels good about you or around you when all you see are the bad things they’re feeling.” 

“That's awful, Dan,” Phil said, genuinely distressed. “Can you _tell_ exactly what the feelings are? Do you feel them?” 

“I can’t tell specifically what each one is. And I… I don’t think I feel them. Pretty sure I’m a depressed bastard on my own. It’s like you said. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between the person and the magic.” 

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, again. Normally it would have irritated Dan, so much sympathy, so much attention. Phil offered empathy easily. He didn’t ask Dan for more than he wanted to give. It was just given. Dan wasn’t in the habit of taking this sort of kindness easily, but something inside him wanted to grab on to every ounce of kindness Phil tossed his way with both hands. 

“It’s all mixed up,” Dan confessed, shocked at how much easier it got, talking about his issues. “Remember I said I came to my powers late? Well...I mean it was always hard. Both of my parents had magic and everyone was always on and on about why mine might be broken or if I had maybe somehow not gotten any. And when I was seven my brother was born. From the beginning...Adrian was gifted. _Really_ gifted. Took a lot of eyes off me, that’s for sure.” 

Dan looked out Phil’s window, where London was hazy and bright grey. “That sounds self-pitying. It’s not, not quite. I liked not having to feel like everyone was watching me, only ever seeing the thing that was gone. I always knew though, that they weren’t just seeing all of the things he could do, even as a small child, but all the things I couldn't.” 

“It still must have been hard,” Phil said. “I mean, it’s not even close to what you went through, but on a brother level, I understand feeling you’re coming up short. Not that being clumsy, shy, anxious and completely lacking in any sport type skill when you have a brother like _Martyn_ compares.” 

Dan wanted to point out that he didn’t know who Martyn was but tabled it. He, for the first time ever, wanted to get it all out. Share the burden of his story with someone. Phil radiated safety; it wasn’t just his aura, or his lovely eyes, or even his handsome face. There was something about him, under the surface, that Dan recognized as safety. He could share his secret with Phil, he just knew. 

“D’you know how I said my magic came when it was triggered by an event?” 

“Yeah,” Phil said. 

“It was the day I realized I was kind of in love with my best friend. Kid love, you know. Only my best friend was a boy.” 

Phil’s eyes widened. “The _same_ day?” 

“The same minute.” 

“That’s—oh wow. That….that association must have—”

“I mean I already had an association with the word gay. I’d been called any version of the word—all of the bad ones—from the time I started school. I knew it was a bad word for a bad thing before I even knew what it meant. So when I realized it...it’s not like I needed _more_ reasons to hate myself.” 

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil said, soft and a bit lost. 

“It’s all right, now. I mean. I still…I still feel angry about my magic. About how it works. But I don’t hate myself, or hate being gay. The only way, really, to do that—to be okay with it—has been to not think too hard about _why_ those two things happened at the same time. About why realizing I’m gay made me ill, gave me fucked up, broken powers.” 

“Broken?” 

Dan rested his chin on his knee. “I mean. I guess…” he closed his eyes, forcing himself not to choke up, knowing tears were already in his voice. “It’s not even that there’s no good in only seeing people’s pain. But there’s no use. Not for anyone in pain, nor certainly me. I tried for a bit, with people I cared about, to make them feel better.” Dan forced himself to open his eyes. He couldn’t look at Phil,so he stared at his hands, too large fingers twisting together. “I had a girlfriend, you see. When I was a teenager. I was trying—I don’t know. It was messed up. I did love her, in a way. And I think...I think she loved me. But I was a shit boyfriend.” Dan laughed dryly. “For obvious reasons. I tried—I tried to make her happy. I could see her moods, and she wasn’t happy, and often with me. I really started to understand then, that my magic was useless.” 

“But, Dan,” Phil began. Dan shook his head. 

“I mean, I tried again. There was a boy, in Manchester. At Uni.” Dan stopped. No matter how safe it felt, talking to Phil, Dan had always carried this heartbreak very closely. It was his, and his alone. “I tried then too. I’ve tried with everyone I ever had a relationship with, you know? Friends, when I had them. Family. To make them laugh, to entertain, to fake something to see if it lightened their load. It never does. We’re, all of us, going to be prone to darkness. It’s been ten years,” he whispered, “And I can’t even tell anymore, if how I feel is because I’m always surrounded by how they feel,” he gestured vaguely, the whole world outside this apartment, a man with a brilliant aura that stunned Dan every time he looked at it. “Ten years, Phil. It’s been ten years and I’ve never...I only just came out to my mum the other day, I had to, I thought I’d break completely. And I dunno why I’m telling you all of this. But I-'' his voice cracked. A tear dripped off his chin “I’m tired. I’m really tired.” 

“Dan.” Phil’s voice was thick. “Could—could I hug you? Maybe?” 

Dan wiped at his face, laughing wetly. Oh, what a fool he was. That yearning, greedy and very loud, in his chest forced him to speak. “Yeah. I could use a hug.” 

They were awkward at first, all long angles in weird places on a sofa, until Phil shifted them and Dan gave in, putting his head on Phil’s shoulder. 

“I hardly know you,” Dan said. His fingers were curled up in Phils jumper. 

“Feels like I know you, though,” Phil said without hesitation. “You feel familiar.” 

Dan inhaled sharply. He hadn’t wanted to think it; Phil was like the faint colours Dan saw in the auras of people who knew him. Familiar. Known even when he’d been unable to know. Seen without sight. 

Eventually Dan pulled away with an apology. He didn’t shuffle back to his corner of the sofa. Phil stayed where he was as well. 

“So, what now?” Dan asked. 

“I don’t know. I mean, ideally we figure out how to get things set so you can like, live your life. Before that, though...I mean it might help, knowing what triggered your magic to appear. Now we figure out what triggered it again, if we can. What the heck it’s doing,” Phil said, eyes darting back and forth as he read Dan’s aura. 

“I’m assuming it’s still fucked up.” 

“Not fucked up,” Phil said absently. “It’s just...it’s calmer. Or not calmer, I’m not sure that’s quite the word. Maybe more stable? It’s definitely less erratic than when you came in.” 

“Can you...I don’t understand what you mean. What you’re seeing.” 

“I can try.” Phil sounded doubtful. “I’m not trained in this sort of thing. I just… _know_. Instinct is a big part of what I do. Have. My Dad always said that’s what made it so odd. My magic doesn’t control me, but I don’t control it. For everyone else in my family—for most people—I suppose your magic is a thing you learn to use.” 

“Adrian never had to learn,” Dan said. “You must be very gifted.” 

Phil shrugged and looked down. Dan could tell he wasn’t quite comfortable with his praise. 

“I realize we just hugged and we’ve done this before, but could I maybe hold your hands? I want to see something. Try something.” 

Dan held his hands out immediately. “That’s cute,” he said. “You asking.” His cheeks went warm.

Phil snorted. “I’m not in the habit of touching people without consent,” he said. 

Dan nudged Phil’s knee with his own, hands still out. 

“So before I take them, d’you think you’re up for looking at my aura for a bit? I’m curious to know what you see right now.” 

“Yeah, uh.” Dan looked up. Still beautiful pastels, like water colours, always moving like the Northern Lights. “It’s all soft colours. I’d say calm but I don’t know you well enough to say if that’s your aura or how it makes me feel?” 

Dan closed his eyes. 

“All right?” Phil asked. 

“Yeah, yeah. Still getting used to it, I suppose.” 

“You think you’ll be able to look again, in a moment? I don’t want to cause you too much pain.”

Dan opened his eyes. Phil really was so, so pretty. “You have been good at helping me with the pain; I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

“It’s no risk, Dan,” Phil said. “Helping you doesn’t hurt, not even. It—” Phil cut himself off, took Dan’s hands before he could question Phil further. 

“ _Oh_.” Breath was punched from Dan’s lungs. Whatever Phil was doing, whatever their magic was doing—a stirring began inside him that wasn’t Phil’s magic. It was nearly too much to bear. 

“Bad? Good?” Phil’s voice was tense with worry. 

“Good maybe,” Dan managed to say. “Strong as fuck, holy shit.” 

“Could you—d’you need a minute before you can open your eyes?”

Dan hadn’t realized his eyes were closed. “In a sec?” He breathed slow and deep, eyes closed, unwilling to lose this sensation, this knew knowledge. For the first time, he could _see_ —some kind of seeing, an inner knowledge—his magic

“You feel it,” Phil said, awe and happiness rich in the words. 

“I’ve never...it’s—something’s wrong with it.” Dan squeezed Phil’s fingers, tried to force himself to understand—there was something bright and strong and beautiful, only it wasn’t. It was tied up, or tangled. Something wrong was all around it, all throughout him. 

“Dan, that’s not you,” Phil said. Dan’s fingers cramped. He was holding Phil’s hands so tightly it must be hurting him. “No, don’t let go. Can I see?” 

Dan nodded. He didn’t know what Phil meant, but knew that he could not, must not be alone in this moment. He’d been alone in too many, had been frightened and alone. Had been hopeless alone. Had been helpless. Dan had never wanted to let anyone in; he barely knew this man and _still_ he knew that he must. That he was meant to. 

“Dan,” Phil said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault.” 

Dan gasped, and doubled over, forehead on their joined hands. 

“It’s not your fault,” Phil said, over and over. Deep inside the unknown, that brightness, that spark and colour Dan never knew he had was pulsing so hard, aching, pressing against something—that _thing_ —tethering it. “Don’t force it. Breathe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/642308989785423872).
> 
> As always, love an thanks to Cal, Juli and Fictropes.


	8. Chapter 8

Dan tried. He breathed when Phil told him to. He asked himself to look away, to stop forcing something. He breathed and breathed until he came to with a sudden jerk. His head was on Phil’s knee, practically on his _lap_ , and Phil’s fingers were in his hair. 

“Jesus _tits_ , I’m so, sor—” 

“Don’t apologize,” Phil interrupted gently. His eyes were fierce, bright blue. “Dan. My magic is settled. I know what it sees, you have to trust me. What I saw—it’s...” Phil paused and looked up at Dan’s aura, just a slight, darting look. “Your magic is something very, very special. And whatever’s bound it like this, it’s not your fault. _It’s not your fault_.” 

“How could it not be?” Dan said. He was so tired, so deeply tired. 

“Sometimes, Dan, the world is so hard on people who are truly special. It’s also full of untethered magic. It’s like with people, you know? People get angry or scared or hateful about the unknown. Things like homophobia— they're fueled by fear. Sometimes the things people fear the most are the ones they hate the most.”

“Stop psychoanalyzing me,” Dan said. The joke fell flat, at least in part because it was true. It was true of Dan’s experiences. True of this world. 

“I just...you really let me in,” Phil said. “I’m not even sure you meant to. I saw a lot.” 

Dan rested his head on the back of the sofa. The fabric was soft under his cheek. “‘s fine,” he slurred. 

“I was meant to ask you some questions,” Phil said. Amusement came through in the curl of his lips, concern in the worry lines at the corners of his eyes. “But I think now you should sleep.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said, forcing himself to coordinate uncurling his long limbs. “I’ll get going.” 

“No, what? Mad lad.” Phil put a hand on his shoulder. “I mean here. I don’t think you’re in a condition to get home right now. And I hope we’ve established that I’m not an axe murderer.” 

“You could be some other form of killer,” Dan said. He meant to protest, but instead he was already lying down. “A spoon killer. You could kill me slowly with a spoon.” 

“Oh, I hate that video,” Phil said. Dan’s feet were in his lap again. Phil moved them gently, then left. He came back with a soft blanket. Dan pulled it up and rubbed the soft material against his cheek. “I promise not to kill you with any form of cutlery.” His hand was on Dan’s forehead, soothing him easily. 

Calm washed through him. Made an anxious lethargy peaceful, easier to bear. 

“Sleep now.” 

Dan hummed, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

It was dark when Dan woke. For once he didn’t jerk into awareness with a thumping heart and lingering anxiety. He rose slowly, gently, body light and heart at rest. Phil was still on the sofa, Dan’s feet back in his lap. Dan rolled over and squinted at him. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Phil said, gesturing at his feet. “You seemed to get agitated when I left. You’re obviously exhausted, I wanted to help.” 

“Yeah, no it’s fine,” Dan croaked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sat up, pulling his feet back reluctantly. The effects of the loss of touch made themselves immediately known. “Shit.” 

Phil put his hand on Dan’s foot. “Yeah. I’m not sure what happened earlier, but when we separate, our magic-” Phil cut himself off. 

“Do you feel bad too?” Dan asked. 

“Yeah,” Phil admitted. “It’s not awful, but there’s something incomplete. I don’t know if you just need time to pull yourself together—if I do too.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dan said. “I’ve made things awful for you.” 

“You haven’t,” Phil said simply. “It’s not awful at all. Not when we’re connected.” 

Dan frowned, but focused. Phil was right. What he felt right now, with Phil, wasn’t a desperation, or a clinging to something good just because he’d not had it before. It was just peace. It felt meant, fated even. Not that fate existed; it was just a handy word to express an emotion and sensation he knew no word for. 

“You’re right, but this still isn’t viable. I mean, we have to go our own ways at some point. We both have work and lives. “ 

“True,” Phil said, so quietly Dan barely heard him. 

“What do you do, anyway?” Dan sat up more fully, scooting closer to Phil, tucking his toes under Phil’s thighs. It was an awful, gorgeous intimacy for Dan. Phil adjusted his thigh a little, so that they were both comfortable. Dan felt no rejection or resistance in the energy between them. 

“I do some freelance editing. I also...I do YouTube.” Phil looked away. 

“Wait, like, you’re a YouTuber? A proper one?” 

“Are their improper ones?” Phil said, laughter kind and teasing. 

“No, I just meant...that’s your job? You must be doing very well to support yourself here,” Dan said, jerking his chin to indicate Phil’s apartment. The dark of sundown filled it with shadows, and Dan couldn’t properly see Phil, but knew that he was blushing. 

“Yeah, I do well enough.” Phil admitted. “I tried doing the regular working thing. Offices. People. But my magic...sometimes it wants to help more than I can. I was over exerting myself. I...my viewers say I help them, and some say it’s my magic…”

Dan was quiet, waiting for Phil to finish. 

“I don’t know that it works that way. When you’re not with someone, in person? But doing YouTube makes _me_ happy. It makes other people happy.” 

“So do I get to watch your videos? Maybe when I get home you can make me happy.” 

Phil snorted and then began to giggle. Dan smacked his arm half-heartedly. 

“You pervert, I didn’t mean like that.” 

“Sure you didn’t,” Phil teased. Dan put his head on Phil’s arm. Phil sighed happily. The overly analytical, cynical, fearful corners of Dan’s mind fought for attention, whispered and yelled that this wasn’t _okay_ , that this was all too much, that _he_ was too much. Phil’s energy didn’t reflect that at all. That lovely space inside Dan had just found, the core that was magic he’d never realized he had, didn’t either. 

“I know I barely know you...” Dan started, then paused. 

“It just feels right, eh?” Phil finished. Dan nodded. They sat like that, in the quiet, breathing the hush of evening and reading the warmth of each other’s bodies. Dan tried to empty his mind of everything but that calm, that rightness. 

“Is that usual? Has this happened to you before?” he asked after a long while. 

“No,” Phil said. “It’s as new to me as to you.” 

“What do you think it means?” 

“No idea,” Phil said. He seemed so easy with it—not like Dan was, not just _trying_ to be easy, not to fight worry. But like he really just trusted that whatever was happening was meant to be. “I am worried about what’ll happen when you leave. I think that...I get the sense that there are triggers, things you’re running into or that happen, that are unlocking your magic. That’s probably not the right word but it’s all I can think of. And your magic really strong, Dan. It’s going to take a long time to figure it out I think.” 

“I feel good here. I...I just mean. I know I can trust you. I haven’t felt safe like that in...not since I was a small child.” 

“You can keep coming back?” Phil asked, hesitant for the first time, like he was afraid Dan might say no. “If you want to?”

“Of course,” Dan said.”Of course I want to.” He got the sense that Phil would suffer the loss as much as he. “I’ll have to figure out how to control this a bit more, when I leave. For now.” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Phil said. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” Dan admitted. “I mean, obviously I have no control over anything. Something’s been restraining me.” His voice was small; he felt small.

“I’ve an idea,” Phil sat up, jostling Dan’s head and dislodging him. “So I know, a little, about how to control it. Things I learned. Obviously it’s not perfect, seeing as I stopped working in an office surrounded by people. I mean that was years ago, so I could maybe do it now?” Phil was on a roll so Dan let him talk it out. “But I...I don’t want you to be coming and going and trying to figure it out. I don’t think that would be good for you.” 

“Well it can’t be helped, can it?” 

“What if you stay here?” Phil blurted. Dan went stiff. “My flatmate will be gone for a few days. We’ll work on helping you. Maybe tomorrow, though. Today’s been a lot.” 

“That—” 

“I know it’s...a big thing. To ask. Or too much? Too soon?” 

“On paper, I guess,” Dan mused. “I’ll have to go back home for some things.” 

“We’re the same size, mostly,” Phil said. “I’ll lend you things. We could chill tonight.” 

“Netflix and chill already?” Dan teased. “So soon?” 

“You wish,” Phil laughed. “That’s a third date sort of thing for me.” 

_What’s a first date thing?_

Dan bit his lip. He was overfull, emotional, unsure. Obviously, he was attracted to Phil. Phil was hot, kind, and funny. The undercurrents however—the way their magic had responded to each others, the things Dan was only now beginning to understand, the responsibility for helping to care for him Phil was offering—that was a tremendous amount to feel as well. And to sort. 

Dan had never quite been able to sort other people’s feelings from his own. And that was when he interacted with strangers’ anxiety. _This?_ He would need time to figure out. Phil was obviously incredibly special. Dan refused to be a person who might hurt or disappoint him. 

“I’d like to chill, with you,” Dan said. “Maybe we could watch something?” 

“Sounds awesome. I’ll get you some comfortable clothes?” 

“That...yeah.” Dan drew away from Phil. Immediately he felt colder, scattered. Not as bad as before though. Because he knew he could stay, maybe? Because he felt less uncertain of what came next? “That would be great.”

* * *

He stayed for four days. They spent a lot of that time enjoying each other’s company—they had similar tastes in both television and in games. They’d lost countless hours to Mario Kart battles, breathless with laughter. Phil didn’t mind how intense Dan could get, his shrieking and flailing over things like getting caught in the midpack clusterfuck. Dan found Phil’s competitiveness, his oddness in reaction to losing, endearing. He’d never met someone who would bite the TV remote over second place, but he certainly understood the sentiment. 

They practiced together too, both of them trying to figure out how to manage their magic together—to withdraw when needed, to connect with control. There was something about Dan’s magic, which he felt every day coming to life more and more, that was helplessly drawn toward Phil. Phil didn’t describe it quite the same way, but he knew Phil felt it. When they weren’t careful, it was all too easy to feel what Phil was feeling; for Phil to see so much of who Dan was on the inside. What he wanted, what he needed. 

Dan wanted to be able to control that. Not because he didn’t trust Phil, but because autonomy was something he’d never had in his life when it came to magic. That lack of autonomy had spilled into every corner of his life. With Phil, he could let himself connect to his magic without fear. It made learning what it was like, who he was, so much easier. 

He did have to leave eventually, which was much, much harder than either of them had really expected. Dan was shocked at his physical response to Phil shutting the door between them. Still, he was determined to better himself, to take back his life. 

Without Phil in his periphery, in his own room, shadows of his unhappiness and loneliness pressing in on him, Dan could really understand Phil’s magic for the first time. How it operated by instinct, how it was meant to make others feel good. Dan didn’t know that his was the same. But he _did_ know now, that his magic _was_ good. That he wasn’t meant to suffer the burden of other’s emotions. He only had to learn to control it, perhaps, to understand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/642655568027418624).
> 
> As always, love an thanks to Cal, Juli and Fictropes.


	9. Chapter 9

“Phi-il!” Dan choked on a mouthful of popcorn. “You can’t just start talking about badger sex in the middle of a movie.” 

“But like, think about it? Do you think it’s louder than the foxes?” 

“I don’t want to know!” Dan said, incredulous but still laughing. “Why would I want to know? Why on earth would you start thinking about this right now?” 

“Well that dog kind of reminded me of a time I did this YouTube prank call video with Louise, where—” 

“The badger in the bathroom one?” Dan said. He took a long sip of his ribena. “I remember.” 

“God, have you really watched them all?” Phil asked, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Yep, all the way back to the start.” Dan poked Phil’s thigh with his toes. “I’m now utter AmazingPhil trash.” 

“Oh, god, no. Please tell me you haven’t been on tumblr,” Phil said. He grabbed Dan’s foot and squeezed it, eliciting a laugh and some squirming. 

It was easy—too easy, so easy—with Phil now. In the world, with others, Dan was still learning how to manage his magic, how and when to create boundaries. Trying to find the purpose for it; for a heart that felt too much, was too sensitive. A heart that had an awful lot to give, one that was wrapped in magic they had discover was more like Phil’s than his mother or even Adrian’s. It was helping magic, instinct magic. Most children began to learn to control their magic early on. To learn how to establish boundaries. For Phil, it had taken years and years, because his magic was so odd and unusual. 

Whenever Dan was tempted to get angry or frustrated with himself, Phil and his mum and even Adrian were there to remind him that this was new. That he was very new at this. 

Dan often thought that Phil had probably saved him. Well. Certainly. He could admit that to himself. Yes, because Phil had stayed, gotten him home. Come to his mum’s hotel room, let Dan stay for four days while they worked through the puzzle of Dan’s magic, of the way they just seemed to fit together. 

But Phil saved Dan just by being, and in a lot of ways, that was even more important. Phil was Dan’s best friend. Phil _liked_ Dan; even when moody, or when he was at his lowest. He liked Dan’s random pop culture rants, his unpredictability. 

And Dan, well. Dan was probably falling in love. At first that had been terrifying, and difficult to trust, what with the complexity of the magic issue. But the longer they were friends, the more time they spent together, the easier it was to have those boundaries. Dan struggled in the real world, but safe in Phil’s flat, he learned faster than he would have thought possible. 

“Hey,” Phil said, jolting Dan out of his thoughts. “Would you?”

“Would I what?” 

“Oh my god, Dan, do you ever listen when I talk?” 

“Okay, drama queen, wasn’t I just responding to your unhinged badger conversation?” Dan sat up, poked Phil’s side, smiling at the helpless laughter this elicited. He wanted to kiss Phil’s stupid, adorable mouth. To trace his tongue along Phil’s; surely it wasn’t normal to be attracted to this odd tongue thing Phil did when he laughed. To want to straighten Phil’s hair when it got too wayward and riddled with flyaways; to want to crawl into his lap and thread his fingers through it, pull him into—

 _Jesus_ , Phil was still talking and Dan was mentally undressing him. 

“—YouTube video with me?” 

“You want me to be in a video with you?” Dan said, surprised. His face went warm. “Really?” 

“Yeah! I want the world to meet my best friend. I mean I talk about you all the time; people are curious. And I think...I dunno I think we’re funny together.” 

“You would, you’ve a twisted sense of humor.” 

“You,” Phil shot back. 

“You, you spoon.” Dan said. Phil stuck his tongue out and tugged on Dan’s sleeve. 

“Please, Danny?”

Fuck, Dan was done. A goner. Finished. He’d never in his _life_ let a human call him Danny but when Phil did it, Dan wanted to curl up at his feet for it. 

“Fine, all right,” Dan conceded. 

“Yes!” Phil went to stand. 

“Not now!” Dan shrieked. “I’m buttery, and I haven’t straightened my hair!” 

“Shut up, I love your hair like this,” Phil said, leaning over to touch it. He backed away, stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously. Dan wished, so hard, that Phil would come back, touch him. 

Dan also knew that while he was sure of his feelings, sure of his boundaries, Phil had been taken advantage of for his magic before. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dan, exactly. Dan understood Phil’s skittishness. Dan didn’t want to wait, but more importantly, he didn’t want to rush Phil. He could and absolutely would wait as long as Phil needed. They’d never said a word of their obvious attraction, their connection. But it was there, and unavoidable in the moments when they’d spend time working on Dan’s magic. 

“Tomorrow?” Dan said, trying to smooth over the moment. “I don’t have to work, I can come over whenever you want.” 

“Yeah,” Phil said. He picked up Dan’s empty bowl of popcorn, held it out for Dan to scoop traitorous popcorn shrapnel littered around where they’d been sitting.

“You should hoover it,” Dan noted. 

“Sure, I’ll get on that.” Phil was already halfway to the kitchen. 

“No, you won’t, you liar.” Dan called, laughing and still trying to clean up after their mess. 

“Well, I’ll think about it. I’ve thought about it.” 

“Shut up,” Dan said, mostly to himself, heart cramping with something like love. “Get back in here so we can finish this movie without any of your perverted badger sex-talk.”

* * *

Filming with Phil was nothing like being with Phil. In front of a camera, Phil instantly transformed into AmazingPhil. His aura did this wonderful, odd set of things, going through colours, contracting and expanding, almost as if Phil were settling himself into an entirely new shape. Obviously no one could see his aura through the camera, which made watching it so fucking fascinating in person. 

“Dan,” Phil said, squeezing his knee. Dan shied away because it tickled. “Stop staring at my aura, you look crazed.” 

“But it’s so cool,” Dan said, still watching. 

“Shut up and do this thing with me. You can stare at my aura later.” 

_It won’t look like that later_. Dan almost protested but then paused, realizing that Phil had probably never had it described to him, may not even know what it was doing when he became AmazingPhil. 

Being on camera with Phil was overwhelming. Not because Phil was being a different version of himself, nor because Dan knew millions of people might watch this. But because the more they joked, bantering and bouncing jokes off of each other, naturally falling into roles that were exaggerated versions of themselves, the more Dan felt himself come alive in a very particular way. He felt...connected to something he couldn’t quite name. 

“You’re a natural,” Phil said as he shut his camera down. “Really, you took right to that.” 

“Probably because I was with you,” Dan said, knowing his smile was too wide, dimples fully on display. 

“Maybe,” Phil gave him a smile. It was genuine but thoughtful. “Partly.” 

“What’s that mean?” Dan made room for Phil to sit back on the bed beside him. 

“I don’t know, really.” Phil brushed lint off of Dan’s shoulder without thinking. A casual touch like all of the other casual touches they shared. 

A spark went off the moment Phil touched him though. An actual...visible spark. 

“What the—” 

“Did that hurt you, are you all right?” Phil’s had hovered over his shoulder, unwilling to touch him again but obviously worried. 

“I’m okay,” Dan said slowly, eyes steady on Phil. His heart throbbed. “Did it hurt you?” 

Phil cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “No.” Dan pushed his knee against Phil’s. Another spark, but lighter, barely visible. Shockwaves rolled through Dan’s body. His skin was on fire. “Phil,” he said, barely breathing. 

“I—” 

Dan leaned forward, tipping right into Phil’s space. Everything was slow, honey slow, and somehow all too fast. Dan’s first kiss was an offer, a question, the barest hint of a touch. Phil’s kiss back was much, much more. It was a hand around the back of Dan’s neck, insistent and needy. It was lips opening and Phil’s teeth nipping and tugging at Dan’s bottom lip. 

“All right?” Phil asked, breath moist and ragged against Dan’s mouth. 

“Yes,” Dan said. He said it with his voice and his body and heart. 

He said it with his magic, pressed his lips against Phil’s and breathed him in. They were both a little sweaty from the lights Phil had yet to turn off, from laughing and performing in front of the camera. Phil’s hands, usually so cold, were hot against Dan’s skin where they slipped under the hem of his jumper and undershirt. Dan put one arm, and then another around Phil’s broad shoulders, pulling him back and down onto the bed. 

Phil paused, pulling away to look into Dan’s eyes. Dan traced Phil’s lips with a fingertip. Every part of him ached; it was delicious and painful. Open in every way he could be, hoping breathlessly that Phil might be ready too, to take the next step. Phil rolled on top of him, letting Dan’s body take his weight. He took Dan’s hand, curled their fingers together, and closed his eyes. Dan arched up with a moan, eyes slamming shut. Sparks, sparks everywhere, all along their bodies, between their desperate mouths, in the spaces inside him where he could feel Phil burned through him like lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/643024004954898432).
> 
> As always, love an thanks to Cal, Juli and Fictropes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....we earn that M rating here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done!!! One chapter to go (and ... maybe an epilogue? Still figuring things out bc my brain went somewhere)

Dan put his free hand in Phil’s hair, pulling him away a bit, overwhelmed and oversensitive and on the brink of something he’d never felt before, something his body had no name for. “Phil,” he said. Phil was kissing down his neck. Dan spread his legs, wishing he could just be unclothed already, that Phil was, but also scared of how it might be, if he could even handle that. 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan said, more insistently. His body moved, rolling up against Phil despite his attempt to slow things down. 

“Oh, god, sorry,” Phil pulled back, eyes hazy and lips red and swollen. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“You didn’t,” Dan said. “I want you to—I just. This is...have you ever felt like this before? With the magic too?” 

“No,” Phil said. He rolled off of Dan. Their hands were still tightly connected. “I’ve never…” 

“It’s...good yeah?” Dan said. His throat was dry, his skin tingling madly with need. “But it’s-I...” 

“We don’t have to—we can go slow. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages.” Phil kissed him again, very softly. “Could spend days here, kissing you.” Dan rolled onto his side, hitching a leg over Phil’s hip. 

“I understand the feeling.” He kissed Phil back, trying very hard to calm his body. To think of all the things he'd taught himself about boundaries, about protecting his magic.

“But you’re pulling away,” Phil said. He didn’t sound hurt, thankfully. Puzzled, more like. 

“I want this. I want to be with you. I’ve wanted it for ages,” Dan said. “But I’m overwhelmed. Just having you—kissing you and touching you like this, _god,_ it’s a lot. The magic was—” 

“—too much?” Phil finished. 

Dan nodded. “I hope that you don’t think—” 

“—Dan,” Phil interrupted. “I just want to be with you. Any way you’re ready for. It was...overwhelming for me too.” 

Dan giggled at the adorable faces Phil managed to pull, the wiggling eyebrows and pouting lips he guessed were meant to be suggestive or sexy. 

“D’you suppose it’s possible to have a magical orgasm?” Dan asked, running his finger along Phil’s eyebrows. 

“No clue,” Phil said. He was kissing Dan again, but sweetly. His nose, his cheeks, his chin even. “Maybe one day we can find out.” 

“One day?” Dan pulled back. 

“Well, I don’t know. What if we were to go for just regular human orgasms sometime?”

“Sometime?” 

“Well, we could now. It’ll be hard—shut up,” Phil said, pinching Dan’s side, eliciting more laughter. “I don’t know if I can control it right now.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said, still giggling and trying to catch his breath. “I kind of opened myself up a bit too quickly, didn’t I?” 

“It wasn’t just you, Dan.”

They looked at each other for a long time, breathing in the quiet around them. 

“Would you sleep here?” Phil asked when Dan’s eyes started going heavy. 

“Yeah. Yes,” Dan said. “Only if you turn those bloody lights off. And if I get to kiss you some more.” 

“That’s an easy one,” Phil said. 

“That’s what he said.” 

Phil snorted, “That’s what your mum said.” Then, “Oh god, don’t tell her I said that.” 

“You are the worst. Get out of bed and turn off those lights. You don’t deserve my kisses.” Dan was already pulling his jumper off, leaving himself in his thin undershirt. The room was thrown into darkness. Phli crawled up onto the bed, right over Dan, kissing him softly. 

“You’ll give them anyway, won’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Dan said, a smile in each vowel, in the tips of his fingers, in the beat of his heart.

* * *

They fell asleep all tangled up that night, Dan koala hugging Phil, even when they both grew overwarm under the covers. 

With the lights off and sleep imminent they both shrugged off shyness, stripping down to their pants, hands discovering the softest patches of skin. Dan’s hands, which he’d always felt self-conscious about—seemed made to grip Phil’s waist, to test the gift of flesh. Try as he might, Dan couldn’t help but imagine a day he’d get to grip those hips, to dig a nail into Phil’s nipples and swallow the reaction he’d get with his mouth. In the dark, Phil’s body was a revelation; those pebbled nipples, the smattering of chest hair. Phil’s hands, so incredibly soft, were confident in their exploration too. Dan ached for that confidence, knowing that if asked, Phil would have no issues with taking Dan apart, unstitching all of his careful control. 

Allowing for new intimacy but still forcing themselves to exercise control, they kept their hands above the waist, their kisses slow. They spoke a little before drifting off: about the mundane—Phil’s most recent fan encounter, Dan’s worst customer of the day, a traditional story he shared with Phil each night. About the video they’d made, and Phil offering to show Dan how to edit it. 

And in between, more kisses. A kiss to Phil’s chest, right where Dan could hear his heart beating. A kiss to Dan’s forehead when Phil claimed he could tell Dan was beginning to overthink. One kiss to each of Phil’s fingertips, shaking and chilled and still a little magic-charged against Dan’s skin. 

A small part of Dan was still worried. Scared of the intensity, scared of the supernova he hadn’t been expecting. 

He’d been expecting a lot. But kissing Phil was a bit like the days his magic had been triggered. Sure, without the pain, but just as overwhelming, leaving Dan shaking and wrecked in the uncontrollable flood of sensations and feelings. But with Phil, he’d worked out how to control his magic before. With Phil, he’d found ways to make a better life for himself. He was a little scared, but with Phil, Dan knew more than anything, he’d always be safe.

* * *

“I cannot believe how intense your fans are, Phil,” Dan said. They’d just posted their third video together and already the internet was on fire, the video gaining so many views Dan’s head spun a little. 

“I thought you were PhilTrash #1,” Phil teased. He plucked the phone from Dan’s hands. Dan stared up at him. Phil put Dan’s phone on the table and resumed running his fingers through Dan’s wild hair. Despite the light tone, his eyes were dark. 

“Well, I’m allowed to be intense,” Dan said, sitting up. He crawled onto Phil’s lap. He bit Phil’s earlobe. It had been weeks, _weeks, _of kissing, of touches that were a little bolder and bolder every time. Of getting closer and closer to the brink; weeks of backing down the moment things became too intense, when Dan was no longer able to keep himself together. Phil had marginally more control but the few times Dan had pushed his own limits, Phil’s control had fallen apart too.__

__It was like the world's longest edging. A month of being _so_ close. A month of learning just what sounds Phil made when Dan would suck on the sweet spot just behind his ear. Of learning that Phil’s hands naturally gravitated toward Dan’s ass, whenever they could. Weeks of growing so hungry and desperate they no longer thought twice of separating and jerking off in separate rooms. _ _

__It had gotten to the point that Dan had actually begun researching how on earth to handle this._ _

__Magical orgasms, were, he discovered, possible. Dan had filed that away in his ‘maybe one day’ folder. Like Phil had said, he rather wanted to figure out a way to have regular no-worries-about-magic sex._ _

__Today Dan felt good. He’d been completely untroubled at work, in control of his magic, able to handle others’ moods without the anxiety of knowing he could help. What’s more, the videos. Doing YouTube with Phil had done something for Dan he couldn't describe. Phil had once told him that others said Phil’s magic helped them, even through screens, but he was doubtful if that was true._ _

__Dan wasn’t. He knew it, in each comment, in the jokes and banter and wild theory posts on social media. Some of it was weird and not really meant for their eyes. But whenever he read a comment about how Phil had changed someone's life, or how the two of them had brightened a day, Dan felt empowered in a way he’d never thought possible. He felt like he maybe, finally, understood how to control the too-muchness of his magic and how he could use it with purpose._ _

__The more in control Dan felt, the easier it was to be close to Phil. To touch him, to swallow his whimpering little moans and to let his body respond how it wanted. Needed._ _

__“Phil,” Dan said, hands cupping the back of Phil’s head, body rocking against his._ _

__“Yeah?” Phil asked; he was already removing Dan’s shirt, reading Dan’s assent in his body and the sheer force of desire radiating from him._ _

__“Tell me, if it gets—”_ _

__“Dan, we have this talk every time. You’ll know. I’ll know. I think...you feel different today. Lately, but especially today.” Phil’s hand was over Dan’s heart._ _

__“I feel it, too,” Dan said, teeth worrying the smile that wanted to take over. Phil thumbed at his mouth, pulling his lip away from his teeth._ _

__“ _Fuck,_ ” Phil breathed. “You’re so beautiful.” _ _

__Dan shut him up with a kiss before Phil could say more, could say too many kind things he’d have a hard time accepting. Dan couldn’t always hear the good, but he could feel it. He fought to get Phil’s shirt off, both of them uncoordinated and unwilling to stop kissing. Phil was so hard, Dan could feel his cock even through both sets of jeans._ _

__He’d thought, over the past month, that when this moment came, it would be slow. They’d be careful with each other._ _

__It wasn’t slow; it was a clumsy mess, it was fast and desperate. They were a tangle of limbs taking pants off, of Dan falling off the sofa and Phil pulling him back on top of him, silencing Dan’s embarrassed laughter with lips that were too wet, too uncoordinated, blisteringly hot. It was sex like Dan had never had before, legs spread too wide as he straddled Phil, hips twinging as Phil took them both in hand, Dan grinding and whining as their cocks rubbed together. It was Phil spitting into Dan’s palm, a fast and dirty solution that brought them to the crest, that beautiful moment just before the free fall._ _

__Dan came with his eyes on Phil’s, thumb in Phil’s mouth, his other hand tangled with Phil’s as they both tugged and jerked each other off with little to no finesse. He watched, as greedy for Phil’s orgasm as his own. Eyes so carefully trained on every breath and twitch, Dan knew the moment it became inevitable, when Phil got to that high with him, closing his eyes in the fall, in the long, pulsing orgasm they shared, groaning and shuddering and sweating, so tightly wrapped up Dan had no idea whose limbs were where for a full five minutes while he came down._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/643296163799482369).
> 
> As always, love an thanks to Cal, Juli and Fictropes.


	11. Chapter 11

“Phil,” Dan said. Tried to say. His throat was bone dry, scratched from moaning. Fuck how loud had he gotten? 

“Hrm,” Phil said. His head was tipped back against the sofa, eyes closed. Their hands were still tangled, covered in come, between them. Phil’s aura was so bright it hurt to look at. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Dan said. He kissed Phil’s Adam’s Apple. 

“‘M not. Just...finding. Brain.” 

“Don’t need that do you?” Dan said, giggling against Phil’s neck. Euphoric and tingling, his body sang. He wanted to ride that high as long as possible. “‘S not like you use it anyway.” 

“Shut up, you,” Phil said. The smile in his voice told Dan that Phil was coming back online. “We’re a mess.” 

“Duh,” Dan said. He leaned back, wincing as his thighs and hips protested. 

“Shower. Bed.” Phil pushed Dan off of him, to the side, with little grace. This time, when Dan fell off the sofa in a shrieking heap, he pulled Dan up with laughter on his lips and an apology in his eyes. 

“All right then, bub,” Dan said, kissing the hinge of his jaw. “But after we shower you’ve got to feed me. I’m starving.” 

“Always so demanding,” Phil said, then yelped when Dan smacked his bum. 

“C’mon, lets go. I wanna get a good look at your ass on the way. I’ve been literally dying to get my hands on it for months.” 

“Months?” Phil opened the shower door and fiddled with the water controls, shying away from Dan’s grabby hands. 

“Yeah, that first time I came over? Third thing I noticed about you.” 

“What were the other two?” Phil pulled Dan into the shower, into still-warming water.

“Your eyes, your aura, then your ass.” 

“Ahh,” Phil said, turning Dan so he was under the water. “My three best features. The trifecta of perfection.” 

“Phi-il,” Dan giggled, swaying into Phil’s touch, against his body, easily.

“Well, you know how it is,” Phil said. He kissed Dan’s chin, then nipped it. His eyes were troubled for a fleeting moment. Dan remembered the stupid boys who had come, and then gone, who pretended to care about _Phil_ but chased his aura. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Dan said. Phil nudged Dan further under the running water. Dan tipped his head, soaking his hair before coming back in for a damp kiss. “Your best feature is this.” He tapped right where Phil’s heart was. Swallowed Phil’s gasp, swayed into the deep kiss Phil gave him. It was a lot, it was overwhelming even, but not because of the magic. 

“I love you so much, Dan.” 

“Yeah, I love me too,” Dan joked, heart thumping wildly. He knew—he’d known—for a long time. There was something about _hearing_ it that burned bright and hot and beautiful-scary. At twenty three, Dan had never heard those words untainted by the grey. Phil’s aura, brilliant, fast moving jewel tones and rare sparkles, spoke volumes. Still, Dan knew even if he’d never seen it, if he was still old Dan, Dan whose magic had been bound up from accidentally soaking up all the negativity around him, who had been held hostage by self-loathing—even that Dan would still have believed Phil. Because he knew Phil by his heart, the sincerity of his words. 

Phil would never lie to him. Phil’s fingers pushed Dan’s damp fringe off of his forehead, eyes bright. Dan could feel it, a truth so deep he’d never felt more grounded in his own self before. 

“I do too,” he said, once with wonder and once again with conviction. He took in Phil’s beautiful eyes, eyes that changed colour in the light, in different rooms, with his moods. He kissed Phil, everything he had in him for this man spilling over his boundaries, flooding them both. “Ph—” 

“You don’t have to tell me. I know.” 

“Do I get to thank you, then?” Dan said, crowding as close to Phil as possible. 

“Only if you give yourself the credit you deserve.” 

“Which is?” 

“All of it, Dan.” Phil kissed him, very softly. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Dan said, undone. “Oh, my god, we’re disgusting.” 

“Your mum’s disgusting,” Phil said. Dan’s laughter reverberated against the shower walls when Phil’s eyes went bright and startled. 

“Stop thinking about my mum when we’re naked,” Dan said, trying to keep himself together, but failing. 

“I ought to write her a thank you letter,” Phil said, still laughing as well; more quietly but with as much heart.

“Oh, god. For what?” Dan prepared himself for another onslaught of emotions. 

“This.” Phil grabbed Dan by the ass, pulling their bodies together roughly. He bit Dan’s neck. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders to hold himself up. 

“Christ, don’t talk about my…” Dan gulped. Phil was kissing his way up Dan’s neck. Pleasure stole his words. Dan’s cock was already taking interest in the proceedings despite having just come his brains out. 

“Eager boy, hmm?” Phil said, all cobalt eyes and black hair plastered to his forehead. His lips were dark pink that begged for kisses, for love bites. 

“I haven’t had a fuck in a year, sue me.” 

Phil exhaled hard against Dan’s mouth, accepting the nipping teeth and messy kisses, Dan’s desperation. Dan didn’t know quite what he was desperate for; his body was hungry for _something_ , for more. 

“Dan,” Phil said, whisper almost lost to the rushing water. Dan was trembling, dangerously close to tears. 

“I’ve ne—” Dan cleared his throat. “I’ve just never had this. Not just the sex, I mean.” He cast his gaze down at their feet, the water swirling down the drain. 

“I know,” Phil whispered. He shifted. “Here, let me wash your hair?” 

Dan nodded. Goosebumps prickled his skin where Phil’s body had been warming him. He shivered, took a breath and with eyes closed, took stock of himself. He was hungry, and horny, and much, much too open to be under control. Phil’s hands in his hair were soft, but he wasn’t no less clumsy here than elsewhere. The rest of their shower was a lovely, chaotic mess; shampoo in Dan’s eye and his dramatic shrieking laughter and censure, Phil almost slipping when they changed position, avoiding injury only by Dan’s quick hands and strong arms.

* * *

“You know, I could get used to this view,” Dan said. He leaned back against Phil’s kitchen counter, eating cereal by the handful. Phil’s ass was something else, even covered in the most eye searing, hideous pajama pants Dan had ever had the misfortune of having to look at. 

Which was fine, because with food, and some space, and the post-sex calm seeping back into his body, Dan already had his emotions back under control. Which meant his magic was under control. Which meant, if he was lucky and Phil amenable (Dan snorted—of course Phil was. Even before today Phil had proven himself insatiable) he might be getting fucked again before the end of the night. 

“Stop staring at my bum,” Phil said, emerging from the fridge with a jar of preserves. “Ow!” 

“Aw, bub.” Dan had to put his cereal down, laughing even as he was feeling the top of Phil’s head for a bump. “You are a walking catastrophe.” 

“I know,” Phil said, as petulant as Dan had ever heard him. 

“Come here you great buffoon,” Dan made Phil bend down so he could kiss the crown of his head. “Better?” 

“Yeah.” Phil didn’t pull away. Instead his eyes locked with Dan’s. Dan made himself stand still under the assessing look. Phil wasn’t laughing anymore, nor really smiling, though his eyes were fond and soft. 

“What?” Dan said after a long moment. 

“Hm? Nothing.” Phil startled as the toast popped. He still had the jar of preserves in his hand. 

“Phil,” Dan said, softly. Phil wasn’t closing off, exactly, but he was pulled in. 

“Nothing bad, Dan.” Phil set to work slathering way too much strawberry preserve on their toast. Globs fell off the knife and crumbs scattered everywhere and _god_ , Dan was so far in love it hurt. Phil had had better luck than Dan, with love. Better, but not good. This was new to them both: the safety, the trust, the certainty. Dan slid his hands around Phil’s waist and set his chin on Phil’s shoulder. 

“Good?” he whispered, checking in. Phil’s aura was soft colours; settled and content. Lacy blue and purple wound through it in flickering pulses Dan knew matched Phil’s heartbeat. Happiness. 

“You seem so happy, Dan.” Phil said suddenly, still facing the counter, hands gripping the edge. “Settled. The first few weeks I knew you—” Phil cleared his throat. Dan let him take a few breaths before forcing him to turn around. “You were so sad. I—I’m really happy. Not just, like, for me.” Phil’s hands fluttered like birds, speaking for him as well. “You.” 

“I am,” Dan said. Their voices were small, hushed even when alone. “I’m happiest when I’m with you.” 

“It’s not just that—” Phil’s eyes were on Dan’s aura. Dan never asked him what he saw there. Letting Phil see him unfiltered—in magic and in self—was an intimacy he was comfortable with sharing. Dan didn’t know what Phil saw in him, and he didn’t know that he was ready to hear any of it. He wouldn’t stop Phil from looking though, ever. “I’m okay with my life, too. I mean...it’s not perfect,” Phil continued.

He ducked when Phil’s hand came up to touch his face. 

“Stop, stop you menace,” Dan said, loud with delight even when chastising him. “You’ve got—here, let me—” He licked the strawberry flavor off of Phil’s fingers, ignoring the hissed breath Phil took. “Let’s get our toast and talk somewhere where you won’t be assaulting me with sticky fingers, yeah?” 

Phil smiled; not his camera smile, the one where he turned the brightness to ten. His content, closemouthed, authentically Phil one. 

They ended up eating while stood over the counter, scattering more crumbs Dan was sure Phil would ignore. Dan wiped the mess up when they were done, daydreaming about a life they could share one day. One where cleaning up after Phil would be more irritating than endearing. Dan couldn’t wait for that—for a shared life filled with a spectrum of emotions and intimacies, even the frustrating ones. 

“Bed, now?” Phil tugged the hem of Dan’s shirt. 

In the dark, teeth brushed and pajamas strewn carelessly on the floor, Dan sighed into the crook of Phil’s neck. Their skin was touching everywhere it could, deliciously warm and comforting. 

“I’m happy,” Dan said into the stillness of dark. “It’s not perfect. Not just learning the magic bits but....I hate my flat and I make no money but things are better with my mum. But I still haven’t come out to the rest of them.” 

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Dan interrupted. “I want them to meet you. I want them to love you...I don’t know that things will ever be truly good, especially with my Dad. Too much has happened there.” Dan knew his tone was bitter but couldn’t help himself. “They did want happiness for me, all along, though, and I really know that now. I’d like for them to know I’ve found it.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, squeezing Dan’s shoulder, hard. 

“I’d like to try to make a plan, someday soon. I’ve been stuck in the same place for so long and now it’s like...like I can be a _real_ person. Like I can finally breathe.” 

“Yeah?” Phil’s fingers were now stroking Dan’s shoulder, leaving tinklings in their wake. “So, what’s in this plan?” 

“A job change, maybe moving…” Dan said it softly, like a secret, into Phil’s skin. He'd been thinking about these things a lot recently. How happy YouTube made him—how happy he felt, connecting with people in a way that didn’t compromise how fragile his magic was when around others’. About never wanting to sleep alone again, how nights at his flat were torturous, him tossing and turning and aching for Phil’s warm body to help pull him into sleep. Dan wanted to say the words aloud but knew he couldn't, not tonight. Not with so much just said, so much done, so much new intimacy to adjust to. 

“Yeah,” Phil said, and _oh_ , Phil knew, he must know, because he said it with certainty. “We can start working on it, then, tomorrow.” 

“It?” 

“Life upgrade. System update.” 

Dan laughed, buried his face against Phil’s chest, then tipped his head to listen to the steady, solid thumping of Phil’s heart. Dan leaned up, lips finding Phil’s in the dark. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be soon enough to keep taking steps, to keep fighting for the life he’d wanted for long but never, never thought he’d have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/643568523803754496).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then, it was over! I just wanna give so many thanks to ThoughtaThought for giving me the artistic freedom to explore my little magical realism skills, and for making a little galaxy MB to inspire me. I'm sorry it took so long. <3

“I realized something, Mum,” Dan said one night, weeks later. Weeks of working with Phil, of falling for Phil, missing him viscerally when they couldn’t be together. When they purposely stayed apart to give Dan time to practice and figure himself out. Soon, just a few months from now, they’ve be living together. They’d known for a while it was what they wanted. As soon as Phil’s lease was up they’d get to be together all the time. Being apart from Phil was difficult, but Dan knew this was the perfect time to hone his skills. 

“What?” His mum was quiet, like he was.

It was late, later than he’d usually call her. He called her a lot these days, updating her on his progress. Working to mend bridges. He’d begun texting Adrian back more, testing the waters. They kept their conversations limited to Dan’s questions about magic, or Adrian checking in to see how things were progressing. In the beginning, the conversations had been stilted, even a little forced. They’d both thawed a bit—it wasn’t that Dan disliked Adrian so much as he was unpracticed at letting his family in. 

“You can’t get emotional, okay?” he warned. “If you get emotional then I will and it’ll all go sideways.” 

“When do I ever get emotional?” 

“All right, sure,” Dan said, rolling his eyes. 

“Well?” 

“Patience, _god_ Mum.” He took a breath. “I don’t know what happened, to make my magic the way it was. To make it hide when I was small. Turns out it didn't come to me late. It was always there, yeah?” This was ground they’d covered. “And I don’t know why my magic took on so much negativity. If I spent all those years storing it up or attracting it to myself. Phil thinks it’s because I’m so sensitive.”

“Phil’s a bright boy,” she said. Dan swore that she might love Phil more than him by now. 

“But I do know...I’ve been so—I’ve never felt a good thing about my magic, Mum. I’ve...I’ve hated it. And now I-I really think I just have to forgive myself maybe? Forgive it? I mean I know it’s not sentient, it is what it is, but—” 

“Yes, love,” she said. Despite his warning, he could tell she was fighting tears. His throat went all tight and his face hot. 

“Mum.” 

“I’ve just. Always known you were very special, Daniel. I’ve been waiting, we’ve all been waiting for you to know it. Hoping for something to happen. I’m sorry it took so long, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t do it for you, or help you—” 

“Mum, please, it’s not your fault,” Dan said, swiping tears from his eyes. 

“I know it’s not my fault. But loving a child is something you carry with you, always. Nothing means more to you than their happiness.”

Dan closed his eyes and breathed and tried, so hard, not to let that sliver of self hatred worm its way into his heart. Yes, it would be all too easy to believe his own narrative, the one where he’d been unloveable, or the odd one out, or uncared for. Now that he really understood what he had done, how he’d shut everyone out, it would be easy to blame himself for hurting others. He’d only been protecting himself in the best or only way he knew how. 

It wasn’t right or wrong, Phil had told him the day before. It just was. 

“Thank you,” he said after a long while. He didn’t apologize. Instead, he felt a wonder at how far he had come since that awful, life changing day in the tube. 

Dan knew he had much further to go. Knew that learning his magic would take months, years maybe. Knew that without the weight of everyone else’s pain, he’d have to take the time to sort his own out. 

For years Dan had felt as though he’d been trudging up an invisible hill, going nowhere, always moving without purpose other than survival. Now, he knew, there was still climbing to do, only he wasn’t and wouldn’t be alone. He’d be—and had been—progressing the whole time. He was afraid, honestly, to look back, to think about his past and how painful it had been. Dan was so filled with happiness these days that he wanted nothing more than to hold tight to those feelings. To live only in those moments. 

And that was fine too. Like forgiving himself, healing would take a long time. Still, even afraid, unready, sometimes unsteady, Dan was willing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to all of you who have been reading me along, leaving lovely comments, cheering me on. And to everyone who encouraged me while writing this, who believed I could pull this off when I didn't think I could. SO SO SO many thanks to my betas.
> 
> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/643568523803754496).

**Author's Note:**

> so many thanks to CalvinaHobbes and Juli/Interficcia for being very patient beta readers who signed on for a 7k long vision and went on a 25k long ride. All of the thanks to Fictropes for the britpicking help. I promise to never use the words train, subway, couch, or preserves ever again. <3
> 
> If you liked, please consider leaving a comment because they make my day, and also reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/640479158535880704/).


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